


The Witch's Mercy

by CuddlesofChaos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ana is nanna, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Dragon Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, Dreams, F/M, Friendship, Gency, Hurt, Junkenstein AU, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Meihem - Freeform, More Ships to come, Panic Attacks, Pining, Shenanigans, There will be ships, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Witch Hunters, grumpy hanzo, hey im trash, i don't know how to tag, lots of them - Freeform, mercy tries, supernatural stuff, terrible puns, the witch is a charming individual, werewolf mccree - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlesofChaos/pseuds/CuddlesofChaos
Summary: Deep in the woods outside of Aldersbrunn lies an evil place. It is said to be a dark castle and is rumored to be the home of the dreaded Witch of the Wilds. She is said to have the ability to bring the dead to life and that she can grant you any wish... for a terrible price.She is an evil that needs to be destroyed, but the heroes who will one day defeat her are scattered far and wide.The Gunslinger, a member of a renowned group of hunters- the Deadlock gang- will be the first to breach the Witch's castle, but certainly not the last.The Archer and the Swordsman, heirs to a powerful clan far to the East, yet their fates will draw them to the chaos in Aldersbrunn. Having one brother saved by a witch, and the other cursed by one.The lone Alchemist wanders seeking a way to defeat the dreaded Witch, but it is time for her to return home and reunite with the Soldier and the Lord.The mad Doctor sworn on revenge against a people who never appreciated him, and his path that will lead him to the Witch's clutches.The girl in the ice and her mysterious past...And then there is her... the gentle witch Mercy... somewhere at the center of it all.My shitty summary for my shitty fic. Enjoy.





	1. Beginnings and Ends

**Author's Note:**

> So hey this is my first time writing a fic. Be gentle. (Actually don't be, I need criticism so I can learn and do better next time. be HARSH)

 

The gunslinger crouched by the tree line- a hint of wind blowing his brown locks slightly. He adjusted his favorite red serape to better protect him from the cold night air. One hand rested on his belt, fingering his Peacekeeper in its holster, while the other held his beloved Stetson in place.

The gunslinger chewed the inside of his cheek nervously. Now he wasn’t normally one to be rattled easily, but something just didn’t feel right to him.

The hunt was going to be a simple one. Sure they had heard terrifying tales of the Reaper and his minions, but no monster was a match for the Deadlock Hunters, or at least that’s what the boss man boasted to the local lord. The lord had pointed them towards a decrepit castle in the middle of the woods, the Reaper’s lair, he had said.

It was old. Stones were crumbling from the walls and the towers were falling apart. The trees nearest to the castle were barren, their branches cast a web of shadows in the pale moonlight. The moat, or what he supposed was a moat, was filled with a murky liquid that permeated the air with the stench of decay. All and all, it looked like shit.

Yet, here they were, perched outside of a ruined castle in the middle of the woods, and the gunslinger was starting to have his doubts. Firstly, they knew very little of the Reaper, save that he was strong and apparently hard to kill. But that didn’t matter to the boss, not when the lord offered to pay them their weight in gold for slaying the Reaper. And then there was the fact that the gunslinger didn’t like the boss’s plan, which was that there was no plan. They were just going to charge in blind and hope that the Reaper was the only thing holed up in that shithole, if he was even there at all.

A low whistle brought the gunslinger to attention.

The signal.

He readied his gun as he and his fellow gang members crept forward. They broke from the tree line and made their way up to the castle’s gate. They silently darted across the ruined bridge, and still there was no movement from the castle.

Where were the Reaper’s so called minions? According to their intel they were supposed to guard the damn thing. The ominous feeling in his gut grew, but honor and loyalty kept him going.

He braced himself against the wall. The boss situated himself in front of the rotting doors. He held out three fingers. Two. One.

They busted through the doors and into the castle, guns drawn and ready and the gunslinger was shocked at the sight.

The interior was nothing like its exterior suggested. It was pristine. Beautiful even. The gunslinger hadn’t seen very many nice places; the boss was the one to go visit the clients, but he was pretty sure that this fortress was way nicer than any he’d ever seen.

Candles floated in the empty hall, casting an unnaturally bright pale purple light upon the men.

There was no sign of the undead hordes or even of the Reaper himself, but there was a small woman who approached them.

Dark skin and dark hair tipped with purple, the woman seemed unusual. She was adorned in a garb of purple and black and she smiled as she drew closer.

The boss motioned the men to stay put as he stepped up to meet her, “Are you the one who controls the Reaper?” he demanded, gun drawn and aimed at her.

She laughed at this. “Pfft. No. Reaper is the Witch’s slave. And I am no witch.” She looked over the men before her, their secrets unfolding before her eyes. “However…” she drew out the word while she twirled a lock of dark hair, “The Witch has instructed to offer you strength in exchange for your servitude. So long as you serve her, you will never die. Sounds pretty nice, no? So what do ya say? Want to join our little family?”

The men all chuckled, they’d been made offers like this by monsters before. It was a sign of desperation.

“I think we’ll pass lil’ lady.” The boss answered, his gun pointed at the woman’s head. The woman shrugged unimpressed and vanished as though she had never been there.

A blast from behind them drew their attention to the back, where one of their comrades laid in pieces on the floor. It was then that the gunslinger finally laid eyes on the dreaded Reaper. He appeared silently, like death often did on lonely nights, wisps of black smoke and the stench of decay trailing behind him. He wore darkness like a mantle and his approach instilled the sort of terror that could send a man to an early grave. 

And with the Reaper’s arrival, all hell broke loose. Hordes of undead swarmed the entrance and other monsters poured in from the hall. The Reaper amidst them wielded two mighty shotguns that he used to gun down Deadlock hunters left and right. The gunslinger rolled to the side, narrowly missing shotgun fire and he fanned the hammer of his Peacekeeper, firing six shots at his target. He flipped the empty bullets out and readied to reload when he felt a searing pain clamp down on his shoulder. A large furry muzzle was latched on the gunslinger’s left shoulder, dripping blood down his serape. Somehow in the chaos a werewolf had crept up on him from behind. A werewolf had bit him. He hit the beast with his empty gun in an attempt to get it off him but it held firm. A heavy boot slammed into the gunslinger’s chest, knocking him down. The wolf released its hold on him as he fell. He slammed painfully into the stone floor, the world seemed to be spinning around him. He felt a boot on his left bicep. His eyes focused on the Reaper. He peered down at the gunslinger and put the barrel of his gun against the gunslinger’s elbow, and fired. The gunslinger screamed out in pain. Bits of flesh and shattered bone were splashed across the stone floor, and what was left of the gunslinger’s left arm.

The Reaper seemed to appreciate his handy work behind his emotionless mask. “The Witch can restore your arm… for a price.” he sneered. The gunslinger spat at the beast.

“Enough we surrender! We shall serve the Witch.” What was left of the Deadlock gang huddled around the boss, their weapons on the floor and all of them on their knees. The gunslinger looked at his comrades with pure disbelief.

The Reaper stepped off of the broken gunslinger. With the weight on him gone, the gunslinger finally pushed himself off the ground.

The woman in purple materialized before the group with a smile. “Great, great. I’m sure the Witch will be pleased, but you see the thing is… we only want the best of you.” She paused as the weight of her words hit them. “So whichever of you kills the rest will get the Witch’s gift.”

And just like that, men who had known each other for years, men who had once called each other brothers began to try to beat their comrades to death. 

The gunslinger watched in shock as his friends tried to kill each other all for a witch’s pleasure. He most certainly hadn’t joined the Deadlock hunters to bow before the very forces that they pledged to destroy. No. He wouldn’t do it. He would not serve the Witch. While his former friends tried to tear each other apart the gunslinger slipped away unnoticed.

 

He walked for hours lost in the bloody woods. The adrenaline had long since left his system and he felt the full pain of the bite on his shoulder and loss of his arm. The gunslinger was no stranger to pain, but this was agony. His belt wrapped tightly around the ruins of his arm began to slip down. He stumbled around the woods before finally falling to his knees. This was it. He escaped hell to die alone in the fucking woods.

“You poor lost soul.” A soft voice stirred him. Before him was a woman in a dark dress and her blonde hair topped off with a witch’s hat.

Curse his luck. He had escaped one witch only to run into another. His strength finally deserted him and the gunslinger fell unconscious.

The woman kneeled beside him looking over him with pained blue eyes. She looked past his body and laid her blue orbs upon his soul, its clarity and brightness telling her of his good nature. She focused back on his body, whoever this man was, he had been through a lot. Blood was pouring from his shoulder and part of his arm looked as though it had been ripped off. She had to stop the bleeding before she could move him. She rolled him onto his back to try to get a better look at his injury on his shoulder. Her eyes were met with the fresh bite of a werewolf. Her heart broke for the man, but she would do what she could for him. She stopped the bleeding as best as she could then dragged him back to her home.

 

When the gunslinger awoke, he was surprised to find himself propped up in an unfamiliar bed. For a moment he wondered where he was, events of the previous night completely forgotten. Then the blonde woman walked into the little room with a tray of food and his memory flooded back.

“Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” She smiled gently at him.

“Uh, I feel fine. Nothing actually hurts.”

“Oh that’s excellent. And your arm? How do you like it?”

His arm? Oh yeah the Reaper shot off his arm. His eyes suddenly focused on his left. There was a metal prosthetic where previously there had been nothing. He wiggled the fingers carefully. They were, surprisingly responsive. It was almost like the actual thing. He noticed the woman looking at him eagerly.

“It’s great. Uh, thank you.”

She beamed at his words, “Oh thank goodness, I tried to make it as responsive as possible so I used some magic to help connect it with your nerves, it should be better than normal prosthetics. Oh, and it will change when you do.”

“Change?” he blinked at the woman, confused.

She suddenly became nervous, “Ah, yes, um… the bite. On your shoulder.” Memory of the wolf biting him floated to the surface. It was rare for the wolf curse to be contracted, but what she was saying…

“So I got the curse?” he was surprised by how calm he was about this.

“I’m afraid so yes.”

“So I’ll lose my mind and kill once every full moon?” He murmured sullenly.

The woman jumped up excitedly, “No! You won’t have to! I’ve done extensive research on werewolves and I have something that will make you a higher class of werewolf!”

“Look, no offense honey. Just because I’m already a monster, doesn’t mean I want to be an even deadlier one.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. You will be able to control it. Your wolf form I mean. You can change at will, well I mean you won’t be able to prevent yourself changing during the full moon… Oh! But you will be able to keep your sanity when you do shift.”

The gunslinger gaped at the woman. This shit sounded way too good to be true. Oh, but she was a witch. So it was possible. But the gunslinger knew better than to expect this for free.

“What’s your price, witch?”

She blinked at him confused. “Price?”

“Ain’t that what you witches do? Offer us what we desire in exchange for something. So what is it that you want?”

She stared back at him with disbelief, “I don’t wish for anything from you. I just saw that you were a good man who needed help, and so I helped.”

“So you want nothing from me?” He rose a brow at her.

She averted herself from his gaze, a hint of rose dusting her cheeks. “Well, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask,” Of course she wanted something. Witches always had a price. “Would you perhaps… be my friend?”

He looked at her in stunned silence. She seemed to panic at this, “I mean—you don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s just I am alone out here and I don’t really have anyone to talk to and—”

The gunslinger’s hardy laugh stopped her in the middle of her ramblings.

“Is that it really? A friend? Ha, fine by me darlin’ you seem nice enough.”

She lit up at his response a smile decorating her angelic face.

“Oh yeah, the name’s McCree by the way. Jesse McCree. I figure you’re gonna have to call me something if we are gonna be friends.”

She smiled at him, “A pleasure to meet you Jesse. You may call me… Mercy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Behold my latest creations!” The Doctor removed the sheet hiding his work with no small amount of showmanship. At the sound of his voice his machines sprung to life and floated around their master.

The Doctor was a lanky young fellow, his youth betrayed by his shock of unruly white hair. He was always slightly hunched over, which hid just how tall he truly was. His right arm from the elbow down was replaced with a metal prosthetic and his right knee harbored a metal peg leg, both appendages clearly of his own design. The Doctor was an animated fellow, comparably eccentric as he was energetic.

His automatons, like his prosthetics, were clearly made from scrap, some of the metal dented in places and other parts held the telltale signs of rust. Each bot was about the size and shape of a man’s upper torso, with long arms that reached past the machines length, making them look rather ominous as they floated about.

“With these you won’t need to fear ruffians and bandits nor the dreaded undead! They will replace our need to hire hunters and mercenaries to get rid of our outside problems and they will serve as upholders of the law! They don’t need rest nor food. They don’t demand payment. And— they don’t care if they die.” The Doctor proudly outstretched his arms motioning to the machines around him. He was sure the Lord would love his newest invention. How could he not? They were perfect.

The Lord was a man grand in stature and presence. He had a scar across one of his eyes, leaving the iris a faded white, a stark contrast to the warm brown of the other. His battle haggard appearance gave him an air of wisdom. He was an older man, but despite this he was known for his vivacity. Rumor was he was often scolded by his advisors for being overly friendly and informal, not that the Doctor would know. The Lord always seemed so serious to him. He was loved by his people and he loved them greatly in turn. So how could the Lord not love the Doctor’s machines that would protect his people?

Yet when he looked upon the Lord, he saw not amazement or glee, but a firm grimace set upon his hard face.

“Doctor…” the Lord’s voice was uncharacteristically harsh, “I told you we have no need for your deadly machines. And now you wish me to entrust the protection of my people to them? Tell me, how can they judge how to best protect my people when they have no sense of morality, when they lack a very soul?”

“Oh but they don’t need that! They follow orders to the letter! And their orders will be to uphold the law!” the Doctor chattered excitedly. He had expected some resistance, he knew the Lord wasn’t fond of his work, but he would change his mind.

The Lord seemed unimpressed by the Doctor’s answer and let out a heavy sigh as he slouched further into his throne. A large hand massaged the knot that had formed between his brows.

“Doctor.” Large eyes settled on the scrawny man. “Let me propose a situation to you. A man holds a woman at gunpoint. This man needs medicine for his sick wife, without it she would die, yet he could not afford it and so he turned to robbery. What would your machines do?”

The Doctor puffed out his chest with pride, “Easy. Eliminate the threat. They would either disarm him or kill him, depending on which presents a lesser risk to the victim.” The Doctor noted that the Lord did not seem pleased with his answer.

“So your machines would not try to resolve the situation peacefully? Offer an alternative for the desperate man instead of violence?”

The Doctor was getting frustrated. Why couldn’t the Lord see the brilliance of his work?

“They will save the lives of good citizens, and of your soldiers and guards! So a few law breakers get hurt or killed. The good ones will be kept safe. My machines would do whatever necessary to save the woman, and the man would get what he deserved for his actions.”

“And what if it was a child who held a person’s life hostage?”

The Doctor grimaced. “They would deal with it the same.”

The two were silent for a moment, both thinking of what to say next.

“Doctor, I—“

“But it wouldn’t be a weakness, but a strength! They have perfectly unprejudiced judgement! They would –“

“Enough!” The Lord bellowed. Warm brown and milky white eyes narrowed upon the Doctor, “I have no need for mindless slaves.”

The Doctor was uncharacteristically silent. His head hung in defeat at the Lord’s words.

The Lord took a breath and began again, “Doctor Junkenstein you are a brilliant man of unparalleled genius and talent, but –”

“NO!” The Doctor screeched, stomping his metal leg against the stone floor with a clang. “You dare to patronize me when you deny the brilliance of my work? NO. No.” The Doctor paused for just a moment to gather his breath. “You will regret this moment, Lord Reinhardt Wilhelm.” He sneered. “You will regret not accepting my creations. No need for mindless slaves? Fine! I’ll create a being that will think for itself. I will create life! And when I do, I’ll make you regret ever denying the help of the brilliant Doctor Jamison Junkenstein!”

And with his final declaration Jamison stormed out of the Lord’s audience chamber with his machines trailing behind him. He would make them pay. Not just Reinhardt, but the people. They never appreciated him. They called him mad. All he wanted to do was help. Well fine. They didn’t deserve his help. He would make them pay for doubting him. He would have his revenge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The archer led his brother to the elders’ chosen location. He knew not what they wanted, but he was near certain it would be disastrous. His brother, the swordsman, followed him blindly, clearly relaxed in the presence of his elder brother. The swordsman chattered idly, but the archer was too deep in his own mind to hear any of it. Finally they neared their destination, one of the many rooms of their home they had yet to explore. Waiting inside would be the clan’s elders, a group that the archer would rather not cross. The archer motioned to the door and his brother obediently opened it. As the swordsman peered inside his mood fell and he grew silent. The archer nudged his brother forward, the dragons inked on his arm stirring as they entered the room. It was unusual for them to be so restless, they clearly didn’t like something in this room, what that could be, the archer knew not. 

One of the elders, the head, motioned to the swordsman, “Step forth young master so we may discuss your future.”

The swordsman reluctantly walked to the center of the room, despite his reluctance, he held his head high. He knew what this meeting would be about. What every meeting with the elders would be about. He had done this song and dance with them many a time. A dark feeling grew in the pit of his stomach as he felt the dragon on his back jolt, like it was trying to warn him of some unseen threat.

“You have summoned me?” The swordsman asked.

The leader of the elders locked eyes with the swordsman, “You have ignored your duties for the last time. You are a Shimada. It is your destiny to serve the clan. You WILL serve the clan.”

The swordsman held the elder’s steely gaze, “I have no desire to be a tool to further the power of our clan and the bloodshed we leave in our wake. I simply wish to live freely.”

The archer grimaced. He had been expecting this answer. His brother shirked his duties as the second son regularly. And while his brother was an unparalleled swordsman, he had no heart for the needless violence their clan wrought upon those who stood against them.

The elder before them sighed, “If that is your choice, then so be it.”

The floor below roared to life as some kind of spell circle materialized in flames, with the swordsman at its center. The swordsman tried to leap away, he would not permit himself to be used in one of his clan’s dark rituals, but he found his legs would not respond to his will.

The archer stared in shock as three hooded figures entered the room and took their places around the circle.

His brother’s pained screams brought the archer back to his senses, “What the hell do you think you are doing?!” he demanded of the elder.

The elder seemed disinterested in the archer’s outburst. “Your brother has defied us for too long, since he will not serve us, we will offer his body to a being that will.”

The archer gaped at the elder. They were offering his brother to demons.

“Hanzo!” the swordsman desperately cried out to his brother, his brown eyes pleading.

He should help, he wanted to help, but he didn’t. Hanzo just watched frozen in shock as whatever spirit that answered the call took over the body of his younger brother.

The swordsman stopped struggling. His eyes, normally a tranquil brown, seemed to burn an angry red from the demonic presence inside.

“While we hold him, you may now contract with him.” A sorcerer whispered to the elder.

The elder stepped forward, locking eyes with the being inside the swordsman. “Oh mighty spirit, we have given you this body so that –” the elder’s speech was cut short as the swordsman cleaved him in two. The sorcerers fell lifeless to the floor and the remaining elders all scrambled behind Hanzo, ordering him to slay the demon, to slay his brother. Hanzo could not. The demon inside the swordsman cut down all those who crossed its path until broke out of Shimada Castle. The demon made its way westward, leaving behind a trail of dead.

When Hanzo regained his senses, he was faced with the carnage his brother – no, the demon had left in its wake. Amidst all of the blood and death, Hanzo realized his brother was gone. The men who had done this to him, the only ones who could release him from the demon’s grasp, they lay dead. They were all dead.

He couldn’t save his brother. He couldn’t bring him back. His brother would be trapped in his own body with a demon holding the reins. He had to save him, and the dark realization hit him that he only knew one way how…

He would have to kill him. Hanzo would have to kill his younger brother.

  
  


Hanzo had tracked the demon to a land far to the west. Here magic flowed freely and there were all manner of monsters roaming the land.

He knelt down to examine the remains of what he assumed was once a bear. The blood was still flowing freely, staining the hungry earth a dark red. The kill was fresh. The demon was close.

Hanzo notched an arrow to his slack bow. The dragons on his arm shifted under his skin. The archer stalked onward following the demon’s bloodied trail. Finally his months of tracking, following the path of death and destruction, had led him to his target.

Moonlight illuminated the back of demon that wore his brother’s face and the thing was breathing heavily. Its sword glistened in the pale moonlight as it hacked away at the body of its latest kill, each swing of the sword splattering blood across the foliage.

The dragons inked on his arm glowed readily as Hanzo drew his bow back. He took one last look at the demon before him, still violently slashing. That wasn’t his brother. With a breath, he let his arrow fly. 

  
  


Their fight had lasted for hours, and it was the archer who stood victorious.

He looked upon the mangled body of his brother and felt his eyes stinging with tears.

“I’m sorry Genji...” the archer could look upon his brother’s limp body no longer, he turned away, tears now falling freely, and never looked back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something was amiss in the woods. She had felt it, as had Jesse. Since she had saved him months ago, Jesse had visited her regularly and they did indeed become friends. He had settled in the town of Aldersbrunn, and he offered up his services as a hunter to the town, and even freely admitted to the people that he was a cursed man. He never shared with the townsfolk what he knew about Mercy and her little cottage in the woods, she didn’t want to reveal herself for some reason. Jesse never asked why and she liked that about him.

Jesse fell in line with her step as they scoured the dark woods for the disturbance. Mercy thought absently about what could be causing such magical anomalies, she desperately hoped it was nothing dangerous. Jesse held an arm out in front of her, stopping her dead in her tracks. She noted that his other hand settled on his trusted Peacekeeper in its holster. She looked around, but saw nothing in the darkness.

“What is it?”

“Blood. A lot of it guessing by the strength of the smell. From here on out you stand behind me, got it?”

Mercy swallowed and nodded weakly. She crept two steps behind Jesse as they made their ways through the trees. Arrows had stuck in some, while others had various bloodied slashes across them. Some kind of fight had definitely taken place.

The two stepped into a clearing illuminated with moonlight where a man’s broken body lay. He was missing an arm and his legs had been crushed, bits of splintered bone poked out from the bleeding mass. His chest and face were decorated with fresh scars and a few arrows were resting in his torso. Despite his appearance, she could feel that he still clung to life.

Mercy looked past his body to try to see his soul. And there it was, beautiful and bright, but it was trapped. She looked deeper and got a glimpse of the dark thing that tormented this poor soul and she shivered. Her magic was weak, but she had to at least try to force the evil out. If she could manage that, then maybe she could even save this man who clung so desperately to life.

She nodded to Jesse who seemed to understand her meaning. She let her spirit enter his and she was confronted by a sleeping dragon with emerald scales. It was another spirit. One from a faraway land she had never seen. And unlike her, this spirit was strong. She used her magic to remove the web that kept the dragon slumbering and with its removal she approached the beast and gave it a gentle nudge. Large dark eyes fell upon her and seemed to look her over. The dragon, satisfied she was not a threat, turned to face the shadow she hadn’t noticed forming behind her. The dragon gave her a stern look, it seemed to want her to leave. For she was not welcome here, and neither was the dark thing appearing before them. She left his spirit, leaving his fate to the dragon inside.

Her eyes opened to the same horrifying bloodbath from before. Jesse stood beside her with his Peacekeeper drawn and aimed at the man.

“So you couldn’t get the bad outta him?”

“No, I don’t think I could have. But there is another spirit in him that might.”

Jesse shrugged, “Don’t know why ya bothered. This fella’s as good as dead.”

She looked at the hurt figure before her. She had already made her decision. She was going to save him.

“Jesse go back to my cottage and fetch my medical supplies. They’re on the second shelf by the entrance, you know the one.”

Jesse pushed his hat up some, “ Darlin’, what part of ‘as good as dead’ don’t you understand? Even with your magic, which I know ain’t that strong, and your medicine this guy doesn’t stand a chance.”

“No… I can still save him.” She whispered like a prayer. She looked at the broken man desperately and witnessed the darkness forced from his body, the dragon had won. Jesse seemed to notice the change in the man’s spirit too, for he turned and begrudgingly began his trek toward Mercy’s home.

“I will save him.”

As Jesse disappeared into the woods, Mercy began to get to work. This man was dying quickly and his spirit was starting to fade. The sick realization hit her, Jesse was right. Even with her medical supplies, the man would die.

She withdrew a green crystal from a pouch on her belt, the last remnant she had of her true power from before she had lost to darkness herself. Powerful life magic buzzed from inside. It wouldn’t be enough to heal his broken body, but it would give him the strength to live. She would deal with the rest later.

She forced the crystal of pure life within him, feeling the spark of life surge through his body. She did what she could to stabilize him without her things. Dawn peaked over the horizon as she desperately worked. When Jesse returned with her much needed supplies, she treated him as best she could until it was safe enough to move him. When he could be moved, the two would take him back to Mercy’s home, where she would work on him some more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been two months since Jamison had pledged that he would create life. In that time he had moved his lab outside of Aldersbrunn. He would need privacy for his work, privacy and corpses. He was all too sure the simple stupid townspeople would frown upon his use of the dead. They wouldn’t see the importance of his work. 

His new lab had been built into the remains of a ruined windmill on a lonely hill. His robotic slaves made quick repairs and upgrades to the structure, all according to the Doctor’s orders and design. They fit the hollow insides with all forms of wire and machinery as well as all sorts of chemistry equipment that the Doctor would need for his experiments.

While he was no closer to creating life, he had a messy blueprint for his monster’s design. It was going to be big, it was going to magnificent. His rejected automatons, which the townsfolk had dubbed ‘zomnics’, buzzed around him setting up his lab equipment they had so carefully moved in the months prior. 

While the bots slaved away he scribbled down more designs for his creation. Things to make it faster. Things to make it stronger. Little adjustments that would make it better. Oh he couldn’t wait to get started. He was practically shaking in anticipation. He needed to go do something. He needed to go blow something up. Perhaps some fresh air was needed.

Jamison grabbed his grenade launcher and some mines, he may as well test some of his equipment when he went out. The sky was dark and grey, it threatened a storm. Good. Jamison loved storms. He hobbled down the hill and made his way to the neighboring woods just as the sky began to unleash its burden. Rain clung to his skin as he strolled about looking for something nice and big to blow up. He found himself a sizeable boulder and began his onslaught of chaos, cackling wildly with every blast.

When he satisfied his thirst for destruction, Jamison readied to return to his lab. Where he would be alone again with his work. He didn’t like that. Being alone. It was why he had lived in town in the first place. Well, he had been alone in the town anyway. Few people dared to talk to him. Oh no, they would much rather talk about him. Perhaps his monster could fill the lonely void in his life. Oh but yes! The conversations they would have! Well… not immediately. Jamison would probably have to teach it to speak first. But after that, he would have a friend!

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt the metal of his peg clang against something. Curiously he checked to see what he’d hid. His amber eyes settled upon a small blue drone.

Its design was sleek and smooth, very unlike his own rugged creations. He picked it up to examine it closely and at his touch the machine came to life. Two blue orbs appeared on the screen and he supposed they looked like eyes, especially with how they seemed to blink and look around. The little bot seemed to look him over before desperately trying to wiggle free from his grasp. Curiously he released the bot. It beeped and booped as it looked about. Finally it flew over to a pile of fallen branches and a downward arrow projected itself on the screen. Did the damn bot want him to move some soggy sticks? He scoffed at that and turned to leave, but the bot’s desperate beeping and his own curiosity drew him back.

He went to the branches and threw a few off. And to his surprise they hid a solid block of ice. He pushed a few more away to reveal more of the ice hidden beneath, and encased inside was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She was small and of eastern descent, yet she was dressed in the thick clothes one would weary in the snowy north. Her face was round and cute, complemented well by the short brown bangs that framed her delicate face. He could just barely see her beautiful dark lashes underneath the frame of her glasses and he wondered what kind of beautiful eyes were hidden beneath. Her hair, oh her hair looked so soft, was pulled back in a small bun with a pin pierced through, a small snowflake dangled at its end. He released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding as he looked over the frozen figure. She almost looked like she was sleeping, like she could awake at any time. 

He brushed a gloved hand against the ice his eyes locked on the frozen princess below. At his touch, the ice cracked and melted away releasing his princess from her frozen prison. He pulled at his hair and cursed himself. He wanted to keep her frozen, so that he could revive her when he had solved the mystery of life. Perhaps he could still preserve her back at his lab, she would definitely fit in one of his tanks, yes he could—a soft moan broke his train of thought. He stared at the still body on the floor. She was dead, wasn’t she? The soft rise and fall of her chest suggested otherwise. She was breathing. She was alive.

The forgotten drone beeped and booped and nudged the girl’s sleeping form, but she did not stir. Without thinking, Jamison discarded his grenade launcher and picked up the girl carefully, like he was afraid she too would melt away at his touch. With her wet form in his arms he hobbled back to his lab with the small drone following eagerly behind.


	2. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People wake up. McCree is the best. Hanzo makes bad life choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, here it is. The second chapter. Woo hoo! Thanks to everyone who commented, the support means a lot.  
> And a special thank you to my beloved beta reader baek_to_the_basics (thanks for putting up with my shit)
> 
> Please leave comments of love or hate. (I bust my hump to write more when I get comments *hint*)

 

Jamison paced his lab.

What had he been thinking? He couldn’t just take an unconscious woman to his home! It was his safe space, where he could work free from the judgement of those who were too stupid to understand him.

He looked at the sleeping beauty laid to rest on the table (he didn’t have any beds). She was beautiful- even by his standards. Was this kidnapping? No… No it wasn’t. Once she woke up he would let her leave. No, he would make her leave. It would be for the best. No one understood his work. No one understood _him_. She would be no different. Yes. She would leave. He would make her leave as soon as she woke up. If she woke up…

The drone floated by the princess with a worried expression displayed on its screen. Jamison supposed the bot was hers. He didn’t like it too much. And he was sure the feeling was mutual. It would get mad at him whenever he attempted to check over the princess. It would shove him and beep angrily. _Damned bot_. This is why he didn’t program personalities into his own bots.

He stepped closer to the princess and the drone eyed him wearily. When he had brought her back to his lab he had to strip her of her heavy outer coat, which the bot had irritatingly protested. It was drenched and Jamison wasn’t about to let her get sick from her wet clothing.

He started checking her various vitals as he looked her over again. She was a lot slimmer than her bulky clothes had suggested. And she was surprisingly well endowed. Not that that mattered to Jamison! He let his eyes linger for a second longer and the bot issued out a warning tone. Right, he was just checking her over. He ripped his eyes away from her chest and focused back on that lovely face of hers. Her lips were plump and pouty. Oh how he wondered if they were as soft as they looked. He leaned in closer, getting lost in the few freckles that dusted her face.

The bot was having none of it. It crashed into Jamison’s forehead with a smack.

Jamison recoiled from the blow, “OI! I was just lookin’ at her ya damned bot!”

The bot beeped at him with an angry expression. He should smash the damn thing. Little bastard. He was a doctor! He was just making sure she was healthy!

He spared another glance at the princess before returning to his work.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It took 16 long hours before Mercy had finished her task. She took a step back to admire and abhor her work.

She saved what she could, but his legs were far beyond healing. She had to remove them. Their robotic replacements had been shaped by her magic to work just like the originals, maybe even better. She had managed to save most of his right arm, but it was so damaged. She had to cover it with a synthetic coat. The hand and forearm could not be saved, those unfortunately had to be replaced. Most of his torso had been so thoroughly damaged and his organs had been savagely ripped and tangled. She felt such pain for the man as she had got to see the full extent of the damage. She had to take him apart to put him back together. Almost all of his torso had to be covered with a thicker synthetic, more akin to armor. It was the only way to hold him together; to keep his remaining bones and organs, as well as the replacements, in place. His left arm had needed minor work, especially compared to the rest of him- she had only added some red tubing that helped the blood and magic flow. She hoped it would help him cope to see at least some of himself that was still… _him_. Where his synthetic arm met his chest was a circular plate ringed in red. This was where she had put in her precious life crystal. This was what would make limbs of metal alive. This was what would make him be able to feel. This was what would make his body his.

She focused on his face. It was still quite scarred, the cuts were minor so she had barely used any magic to mend them. She took in the structure of his face, he was actually quite handsome. She delicately brushed some of his dark hair away, stroking his temple. Things were going to be different for him. Difficult for him. She had made his new body with making it livable in mind. He would be able to do everything and anything he had been able to before. He could still feel. She had made sure of that, as had the crystal’s magic flowing through his veins.

A knock on her door roused her from her thoughts. Before she could respond the door opened and she heard Jesse strutting in.

“Evenin’ Mercy, you still working?” he called out from the entrance.

Her cottage was small, but she liked it that way, it was more homely. It only had three rooms, but she made it work. There was the entrance, which was more like a short hallway than a proper entry. To the immediate left was her kitchen, which sported more surgical and alchemical equipment than actual cooking utensils. And then there was her bed and bathroom and the loft above it. Simple and small.

She stepped out of her kitchen-turned surgery room with a tired smile.

“Hello, Jesse.”

“Ah! There she is!” Jesse smiled warmly at her. “Have ya eaten yet darlin’?”

At the thought of food her stomach started to lightly grumble. Goodness. She hadn’t eaten in nearly a day.

Jesse smirked at her stomach’s declaration as he offered her a basket filled with fruit, cheese, and bread.

“Figured you would be too busy taking care of others to take care of yourself.”

She looked at him, then looked at the food. She couldn’t help it. She ran up to him and wrapped her arms around him. She was so blessed to have a friend like him.

Jesse wiggled free from her grasp and offered her an apple, which she eagerly started devouring.

He let her work away at the tasty treat for a moment, she savored every sweet and juicy bite.

“So how’s the patient?”

“He’s doing fine. His vitals are all strong.”

“So, uh,” Jesse rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “what did you do about all that… damage?”

Mercy stopped her desperate onslaught of the fruit. She motioned for Jesse to follow her to the kitchen. He looked over the man in silence.

“I had to replace his legs and part of his arm. The rest I had to repair using synthetics.”

Jesse knew she would have kept what she could, but still an uncomfortable silence followed. They both made their way out of the kitchen.

“So is he gunna wake up soon?”

Mercy lit up again, “Oh yes! Hopefully he will be awake by early as tomorrow, but it may be a few days.”

“Good. I’d like to talk to the fella. Find out what happened.”

Mercy nodded. She was curious too. What could have done that to a man possessed she did not know.

Jesse cleared his throat, “Now then, if you’ll excuse me darlin’, I’m gonna head back to town for a drink.”

Mercy chuckled as she walked her dear friend out with a quick goodbye. He winked with a tip of his hat and started strolling toward the town. Jesse would probably be back tomorrow. He visited her often despite the fact it took a few hours to make it to her home. He was such a worrier.

She smiled to herself as she shut her door. She made her way to her bedroom. It was time for some much needed sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

McCree made his way back to town in record time, courtesy of his curse. He shifted back just outside of town. It was late, but Lena’s bar would still be open. He sashayed into the bar and waved to a few folks who hesitantly waved back. Everyone knew what he was. He had told them. The big guy, Reinhardt, had decided to trust McCree, he said no one was allowed to bother him for what he was, so long as he didn’t hurt anyone. It was only natural that some would still be afraid despite this. He walked up to the bar and snagged a stool.

Lena was absent mindedly drying a glass with her back turned to the rest of the bar.

“Howdy Lena!”

At the sound of his voice the energetic barmaid jumped. She whipped around and held an accusing finger to him, “Oi! McCree you just about gave me a heart attack luv! Have you been patrolling the woods this late? We haven’t had an attack in ages and --”

McCree help up a hand to stop her ramblings before they got too far.

“Oh. Right. What can I get ya luv?”

“Whiskey’ll do fine darlin’.”

Lena gave him a cheery smile as she brought out a bottle of whiskey and two empty glasses. She poured them each a glass and began her gossip.

“So… have you seen the wandering monk yet?” McCree shook his head as he started sipping away at his glass, relishing the fire it put in his belly, “He just got to town the other day. Zenyatta’s his name. He’s an odd fellow, oh but he is very nice. He’s going to be here for awhile. Said something about there being discord or such. Oh and speaking of discord did you hear what Hana did?”

“Hana’s always up to something.” McCree smiled fondly. He liked Hana, she was mischievous. Never a dull moment with her.

“She played a prank on Jack! Oh it was so funny you should have seen it. She pulled him away from his guard post to tell him she was pregnant. Oh she sold it so well, crying and everything. I almost believed it. You should have seen Jack’s face. Oh and the best part is, before she could tell her dad it was a joke, Jack had ran down poor Lucio and was threatening to kill him!”

McCree gave a hearty laugh at that. Poor Lucio. Everyone in town knew that Hana and Lucio liked each other. Well, everyone except them. Heck even he knew and he’d only been here for a few months. They were both good kids, even if Hana had a knack for trouble. God he would have loved to see old Jack Morrison run down an unsuspecting Lucio.

“Now Lena, don’t leave me hanging.”

Lena took a long drink of her whiskey. “Well Jack was saying ‘how dare you!’ and ‘you are going to marry her’ what have you and poor Lucio was so confused he couldn’t even try to defend himself. When Hana finally caught up, she had to explain to her dad that she was NOT pregnant and then she had to apologize to Lucio for having her dad yell at him for thinking he got her knocked up. She was blushing furiously. I’ve never seen her so awkward and shy. God I love kids.”

“Those two ain’t so much like kids as they are miniature adults.”

Lena contemplated this, “Well they still act like children.”

“That they most certainly do.”

McCree and Lena continued their idle chatter and drinking until Lena had to close up. Afterwhich McCree made his way to his small cabin at the edge of town. The previous owners had been brutally killed by some beast some years ago. They’d left the husband’s bloodied body in the bed and had stolen away the poor man’s wife, who was never seen again. There were still portraits of the two of them in the living area, McCree couldn’t bear to take them down out of respect for the dead. Well it was McCree’s house now and ain’t no monster gunna get his hide.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Confused brown eyes opened up to an unfamiliar place. There were wires dangling from the ceiling above. She looked around. She was in a lab?

She sat up. She had been sleeping on a metal table. Why?

A blue drone flew up to her and beeped in joy. She stared.

“Snow...ball?”

The drone did a twirl with a happy expression illuminated on its face. Yes. This was Snowball. Her friend.

She knew her friend, but she did not know herself.

She got off the table. Maybe if she looked around something would come back to her. She looked at the lab equipment in amazement. She knew what most of these things were and what they were for, but didn’t know why. Maybe they were hers?

Her gaze rose above her where wires crisscrossed the grated floor above. There was more up there.

A violent snarl caught her attention.

She grabbed a flask and readied it to her defense. She looked around for the source of the noise and her eyes settled on a older looking man hunched over a desk. She hid. He hadn’t seen her yet. Snowball made a soft wooo. She carefully peeked out, the man hadn’t moved at all. She crept closer, every muscle in her body tense.

She held her weapon ready as she approached. He snored lightly. He was asleep. She carefully inspected him. Despite his rather messy white hair, he actually looked rather young. He had dark, heavy bags under his eyes and she couldn’t help but wonder if this was the first time he had slept in days. She lowered her weapon. She peered closer at his peaceful face. How could he be so at peace sleeping in such an uncomfortable position?

Another violent snore erupted from the man, startling the girl. In her surprise she had thrown her weapon at the source of the sound. The sleeping man.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jamison awoke to a sharp pain to the back of his head and the sound of shattering glass. He must’ve accidentally knocked something over again. Eh, he’d just have the zomnics clean it later. He stretched lazily. Oh well, it was a nice few hours of rest. He looked back down at the mine he had been tinkering with when he had fallen asleep. It made an alright pillow. He was almost done with it too. He reached for a wrench and heard a gasp behind him.

He whirled around and was face-to-face with the girl. He gaped a bit. She looked scared… Why was she scared?

He stood up and he felt broken bits of glass shake free from his hair. How did he manage to do that? He dusted himself off, hoping to at least look a bit presentable, and put on a bright smile to try to ease the girl.

“G’day! Good to see you up and about.”

The girl still looked a bit scared. Think Jamison, think. How to make her feel more at ease. He fidgeted.

“I am Doctor Jamison Junkenstein.” He paused for a bit. How to say this… “I, uh, found ya and brought you here.”

The girl’s eyes were wide, Jamison hoped it was from confusion rather than fear.

“Oh yeah! Found your bot too. Or at least I think it’s yours. Seems to like you. It’s a bloody pain in the arse though!”

Shit he was rambling.

“Oh, you must be hungry! Want something to eat?”

The girl stared for a second before eagerly nodding. Jamison was ecstatic. At least he was doing something right. He grabbed a loaf of old bread and a bit of cheese. He offered it to her and she accepted it with a “Thank you” so quiet Jamison was sure he had imagined it.

She sat and nibbled quietly on the bread. Shit, she probably didn’t like the cheese. It did smell pretty bad. Might’ve been a bit moldy. The bread was hard, but it should be still fine. She was still eating it after all.

“What happened?” her voice was as soft and beautiful as he had imagined.

“Uh. I dunno really. Was kinda hoping you could tell me. I found ya out in the middle of the woods in a solid block of ice.”

“What?”

“Yeah, twas strange alright. We don’t get much snow or ice here, specially this time of year.”

“I… I don’t know what happened.”

Jamison looked around nervously. The drone hovered between him and the girl.

“Oh! Right! Uh, I’m Doctor Jamison Junkenstein!” He offered her his hand.

She giggled, it was the most beautiful sound he had heard. “You already told me that.”

Oh. Right. He had already told her his name.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, uh, what’s your name?”

“My name…” her brow furrowed with thought. Jamison bit his lip. Could she not remember?

Her warm brown eyes seemed to peer past Jamison and the bot.

“Mei.” She said with determination. “My name is Mei. And this,” she motioned to her bot, “is Snowball.”

“Well pleasure to meet ya Mei! Not so much you, scrapbot.” Jamison narrowed his eyes at the offensive robot, “Don’t think I forgot about yesterday, my head still hurts.” Mei laughed at that. Jamison liked the sound, it made him want to try to make her laugh again. He relaxed and felt a smile slip easily across his face.

He jumped up abruptly, “Ya can stay here as long as ya like or til you get better and want ta leave or something…”

God he was being too excitable about this. She was going to want to leave. Jamison was sure his heart was going to burst from all its pounding, that or it was going to shatter his ribs.

Mei gave him a soft smile.

“Thank you Doctor, I would like to stay.”

Jamison couldn’t hold back his smile.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Hanzo perched silently in the trees. The thundering of the horses’ hooves was deafening in the stillness of the woods. The horses begrudgingly dragged the heavy cart while the merchant looked around nervously. The beasts trudged onward seemingly unbothered by the uneven rock and mud underfoot.

Both horses abruptly stopped and their ears circled wearily, looking for something in the silence.

Hanzo drew his bow.

The horses whinnied nervously, trying to take steps back. The merchant was shaking, but tried to ease the beasts onward.

A branch snapped. All was still.

They came from both sides. Bandits. They surrounded the cart with guns and swords drawn and ready. They demanded the merchant surrender his goods to them in exchange for his life.

Hanzo scoffed. They were just humans. Humans were no match for him.

Arrows soared through the air burying themselves in unsuspecting targets. Hanzo eliminated three men before the others noticed that they were the ones being hunted.

He let arrows fly as he moved through the trees with the wind.

The brigands’ leader decided he’d had enough. He grabbed the merchant and pressed his pistol to the terrified man’s head.

“Come out ya bastard or I’ll blow his fucking brains out.”

Hanzo buried an arrow right between his eyes.

The remaining men fled with their arms held pathetically over their heads. They never even saw him.

Hanzo jumped down from his perch. The merchant, who had been paralyzed a moment earlier, ran up to him offering his thanks between disgusting sobs.

He offered coin, but Hanzo had no interest in money. They agreed that Hanzo would offer protection in exchange for a ride. The merchant asked him where he wanted to go. Hanzo had no destination. He had no place to belong.

“Anywhere.”

Hanzo climbed on the back of the cart.

“You’re not from around here are ya?”

“No.”

“Yeah I could tell… The way you fight is incredible. Are you a mercenary?”

“No.”

“A hunter?”

“No.”

Hanzo was irritated by the merchant’s rambles. He closed his eyes in an attempt to tune the man out.

“Well I’m heading to Selkirk, it’s a nice enough place. You might not like it there. Might be too quiet of a city for man like yourself. Not much going on. Not like Aldersbrunn, oh no. Now that place is dangerous.” Hanzo’s ears pricked at the promise of danger. “They got lots of monsters there. Oh. And the Witch of the Wilds. I avoid doing business around there because of her. She’s got this servant, the Reaper, anyway he’s a real monster that one. They say he eats the souls of the dead and that looking at him will curse you with night terrors that will drive you to insanity. But the worst thing is… he can never die. Oh, but that’s not him. That’s the Witch’s doing. I’ve heard she can grant any wish you want, for a price that is. Oh but she doesn’t want gold or jewels, no, no. She’ll take your soul. Probably feeds it to her Reaper.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. These people and their tales of unkillable monsters. Hanzo grew up fighting real monsters. Demons, ogres, ghosts, goblins, creatures that slaughter children and warriors alike. These people had bloodsuckers who were just as pathetic as a normal man. Skinwalkers who were unintelligent beasts. And then their witches, who were just simple sorcerers, not even that skilled either, but their power was enough to amaze these simple people. Hanzo had run into all of these in his trips to the west. While he had never been this far west, he figured the monsters would be the same.

“The people of Aldersbrunn are stark raving mad for living there. Well, they’ve always been mad. They even tolerated a local crazy who terrorizes the town with his inventions. All kinds of people there. The lot of ‘em don’t belong anywhere else so they stay in that wretched place.”

Hanzo had nowhere he belonged. Not anymore. Perhaps this Aldersbrunn would be a suitable location to hole up for awhile. He would consider it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Genji awoke to the smell of food and a gentle hum. His eyes opened to blinding light and his vision was clouded with a haze. Amidst the fog a lone figure stood out to him. An angel. She had skin of porcelain and hair of pure gold. The light seemed to irradiate from her.

She was hunched over something, he couldn’t tell what.

His vision focused on her. She was beautiful. Her eyes were even more beautiful than even the summer sky. Her sapphire orbs were transfixed on a book before her. She look so serene. The very image of kindness and grace.

Then his eyes caught the black pointed hat on the table beside her. He realized her dark robes.

He was not safe in the arms of an angel.

He was trapped in the den of a witch.

She hadn’t noticed he was awake yet. He moved quickly, silently, looking for a weapon. His swords were placed neatly on a counter nearby, in between bloodied bandages and bits of metal.

He reached for them, and then he noticed his right arm. It wasn’t his. It felt like his, but not. It was covered in some kind of red skin that extended to his shoulder. His hand, it was almost robotic, but it moved like his own.

His left arm was still his. Somewhat. It had a few crimson tubes protruding from his forearm though.

He could feel his own body underneath the dark skin and bits of metal that coated his torso.

But his legs. He could still feel them. He could move them. But no part of them were his.

What had happened to him?

 

The humming stopped. The witch. She had done this to him.

He had his short sword drawn and at her throat before she could even get off her chair.

She seemed surprised by his sudden attack, but not afraid. Her mistake, she should be. He was a monster.

“What have you done to me witch?” he spat at her.

The surprise faded away and her eyes filled with such sadness.

“You were severely injured. You were dying. I--” she averted her gaze, “I did what I could to save you.”

He doubted that very much. His anger rose with each of her lies. “Bull shit. What did you do to me? Why did you do this to me?”

The pain in her eyes didn’t waver. “I saved what I could. I’m so sorry. But I… I was not strong enough to heal you fully. So I,” she swallowed, “I had to replace what I could not heal.”

His anger bubbled over. Did he used to be this angry? It didn’t matter. The old him was gone. This witch had stolen him and made him into some kind of robotic monster. An unholy abomination. And she was trying to pass herself off as some kind of kindly saint.

He should kill her.

The sound of a gun cocking caught his attention.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

McCree made his way to Mercy’s cottage. Her guest was waking up today. Hopefully. McCree wanted to be there for that. Well McCree had some questions for the guy. First and foremost, what the fuck happened to him?

Mercy’s quaint little cottage entered his field of view. McCree absently rummaged through the basket of goodies he brought as he meandered up. A few apples, Mercy liked the sweet red ones best; some meat for the stew she said she would make, a delectable smell in the air suggested that she had already started cooking; a few carrots and potatoes; a cabbage; and a very ugly mushroom with disgusting purple bulbs, he didn’t know why she wanted it, but he keep that wrapped away from the rest of the food. He turned his nose up at the offensive shroom, it reeked something awful.

He was about to knock, and probably just let himself in, but an angry male voice caught his attention.

McCree put down his basket and quietly pushed the door open. He heard Mercy’s soft voice. She was in the kitchen. McCree crept up and saw the man they’d saved holding a blade to Mercy’s throat.

The gunslinger wasted no time. He drew his Peacekeeper and aimed it at the back of the man’s head, which seemed to be adorned by lots of red tubing.

The man looked at McCree with fierce crimson eyes.

“Now, now. Is that any way to be thankin’ someone who worked so hard to save you?”

The man narrowed his eyes, “You expect me to believe this witch saved me?”

McCree shrugged, making sure his own replaced arm was observed, “Yeah, I had a tough time thinking that a witch would do something so selfless too, but Mercy here is a special kind of gal.”

Mercy interjected, “Jesse, please, the gun is not helping.”

“I’ll put the gun down when he drops the sword. We can start talking after that.”

The man made no move to drop the sword. Mercy seemed to glare at Jesse demanding he put the gun down.

God, he knew saving this guy would be nothing but trouble.

McCree lowered his gun, placing it carefully on the floor. He could roll and pick it up in a heartbeat if necessary.

The man hesitantly lowered his own blade.

“Great, now we can talk. How about ya start by telling us what the hell happened to ya?”

“What do you mean?”

McCree gaped a bit, “Well when we found ya, you weren’t in a good way. You looked like a pincushion that got attacked by a pack of hungry wolves. Top it all off ya had something evil inside of ya. I thought you were good as dead. Mercy here worked to get the evil out. Had some help from a green dragon or some other magic mumbo jumbo.” The man visibly relaxed at the mention of the dragon, his sword clattered on the ground. “Then she slaved away trying to keep you alive. So, what happened to you?”

The man held his head between hands of flesh and metal. “I… I was betrayed.” He winced as his memories seemed to come back. “By my clan. By my brother.” The special kind of hurt you can only get from betrayal filled his eyes. “They… they were going to give my body to a demon…” His eyes widened and he became visibly frantic. “Oh god I think I killed them. I didn’t really want to, but I couldn’t stop myself. I remember feeling angry, it was like someone else’s feeling had become my own.” He crouched on the floor still desperately holding his head. “I remember wanting to kill them all. And my brother. Oh god I didn’t want to kill my brother! I could hardly stop myself. My body was no longer my own. I remember blood. Then I… I ran. The rest, I can’t remember. It’s like I was asleep.”

Mercy got off the chair she’d been held prisoner on and kneeled beside the broken man. Good, McCree wasn’t really that good at the whole comforting thing. She gently wrapped an arm around him and lightly rubbed his back. He flinched at her touch.

“Shhhhh….” she cooed to him, “It’s ok, anything that happened wasn’t your fault. You’re alright now. The demon is gone, you’re free.”

The man slowly raised his head to meet Mercy’s soft eyes. He looked so fragile. Hard to believe he was ready to slit her throat a few minutes before. Mercy seemed eager to trust him, but McCree had his doubts.

McCree coughed awkwardly, this was getting a little weird. “So, uh, now that we don’t gotta worry about you trying to kill us,” McCree picked up his discarded Peacekeeper and holstered it. He tipped his treasured hat with a sideways smile, “The name’s McCree, and the little lady there is Mercy.”

The man looked at them both, his stare lingering on Mercy, which McCree did not like considering he may still want to kill her. The man stood up and bowed.

“I am sorry for the trouble I have caused you, McCree and Mercy. I am Genji. And I thank you both for your kindness.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The walls were high with uninviting metal spikes adorning the top, the drawbridge a thick mess of many kinds of wood. All of it encasing the city of Selkirk. An ugly wall to hide an ugly city.

The bridge slammed shut behind Hanzo, locking him in with the filth, and he took in the scene. The city itself was disgusting, the streets lined with trash and refuse, and the people were just as foul. They eyed him and his charge, sizing them up, perhaps this city was not as safe as the merchant had suggested. While the merchant was frightened lamb, an easy target for these people, the scum stayed a respectable distance. For the archer was a mighty wolf, fearless and strong, and these rats could tell. The merchant thought he would be safe from the monsters here, but as Hanzo knew, not all monsters wear a beastly skin.

Hanzo saw the merchant safely to the marketplace, where he would now be under the city guards’ care. Stalls and stands littered the area as the vendors screeched at any who passed by. Hanzo maneuvered the maze of the market avoiding the shoving masses until he finally made his way to a tavern.

Hanzo had learned long ago that where alcohol flowed freely, information was to be found. He entered the tavern and made his way to the bar. The bartender looked him over, Hanzo offered up enough money to buy himself a mug of ale. He hated the stuff.

He took a furtive sip of the liquid as he eyed the rest of the bar. Mostly empty. Listening in wouldn’t help much. Oh well. He did prefer the more direct approach anyway. He focused back on the bartender.

“Perhaps my friend, you could assist me with something?” Hanzo inquired.

The barman snorted, “Oh? Unless its drink you want I can’t guarantee I’ll help.”

Hanzo scoffed and withdrew a single gold coin from his purse. The barman froze as his eyes transfixed on the gold.

“You got my attention.”

“What can you tell me about Aldersbrunn?”

The barman shrugged, “It’s a town a few days ride west of here. They don’t got the protection of the wall like we do. They get set on by monsters regularly, and the occasional bandits who are desperate enough to go that far into monster territory.”

“And what of the Witch of the Wilds?”

The barman’s face hardened into a grim expression.

“Don’t know too much about her. Her servant, the Reaper, now he’s the one you should fear. Awhile back, we were attacked by the Reaper. We dunno why, but he came and killed a handful of folk before just vanishing. He was there one moment, blowing some poor sod’s brains out, then he just sort of faded away. Our lord here hired a bunch of hunters to go kill the bastard. There was maybe about twenty of those men, they had the reputation for being some of the best monster killers in the land. None of them returned to claim their pay and a week after they left, the Reaper came back and killed the lord’s son.”

“Where did they go to find the Reaper?”

“There’s supposedly a castle out in the woods. Just between here and Aldersbrunn, bit closer to Aldersbrunn though. It’s supposed to be the Witch’s castle. But I’ve heard whisperings that it’s home to way more than just the Witch. It’s a den of evil.”

Hanzo considered this information. Well at least he knew a bit more about this foreign land he’d decided to stay in. He tossed the barman the coin and got up to leave.

“Look, I know it isn’t my place to tell you your business, but you got the look of a dangerous man looking to do a dangerous thing. Don’t. Don’t go to Aldersbrunn. Don’t look for the Witch. Don’t go looking for trouble, cause it will damn well find you. And when it’s done with you, it’ll come for us.”

The barman couldn’t have made Hanzo’s decision more clear. Hanzo was looking for trouble. He needed it.

 

He walked around the rathole until he found a suitable inn. He would set off for the Witch’s castle after some much needed rest.

The beds were comfortless, yet when his body hit the bed, sleep overtook him.

 

Blood. Blood everywhere. It wasn’t his- no. It was the demon’s. His dragons had torn the demon’s body asunder. They had claimed most of an arm, brutally ripping it off halfway. Both of its legs had been gnashed by the hungry serpents. Chewed up and spit out. Only bits of broken bone and fleshless muscle held the ruined legs to the rest of the pitiful body.

The demon laughed at him, despite its injuries. It laughed at him.

Then it screamed. With his brother’s voice, with his brother’s pain. Hanzo’s throat constricted at the pained sound.

Then he saw his brother’s body take its last breath. All was still. But the laughing. The laughing didn’t stop.

 

Hanzo awoke in a cold sweat. He needed to go. Now.

He gathered his things and set off into the night. He needed to hunt something, he needed to kill something. The Witch of the Wilds and her Reaper would do.

 

He walked for days before he arrived at the Witch’s fortress. It didn’t look like much, but Hanzo could sense the magic encompassing the building.

He proudly walked across the bridge. There would be no need for stealth. The wards around the place would have already alerted the inhabitants of his arrival.

He pushed open the massive door and walked in. As he’d expected, the interior was much nicer than its outward appearance suggested. He closed the door behind him and waited. Someone would come to meet him. He hoped it would be the Witch’s dog, the Reaper.

A woman in purple materialized before him, she seemed to look him over with crossed arms and a contemplative look.

“So what brings an archer from the east, a Shimada, to the Witch of the Wilds?”

This woman was probably some kind of spirit or demon that fed off secrets and lies.

“I am here to kill her. And her Reaper. And any other filth that plagues this world.”

The woman blinked. “Why though? No one hired you to, and we have done nothing to wrong you, yet… So why would you kill a potential ally?”

Hanzo scoffed at the woman, “Ally? Your Witch could do nothing for me, so why would I ally myself with craven trash like your Witch?”

“Oh, but that’s where you are wrong, archer.” A new woman had stepped into view. She was adorned in black and her pale blonde hair was topped off with a witch’s hat.

She fearlessly strutted around him. Looking him over with a cold and calculating stare that did not match the warm blue of her eyes. She smiled at him, but her eyes did not smile with her.

“I could do a lot for you. I can offer you what you have lost.” She ran her cold hand on his bare shoulder. Hanzo’s glare met her own carefree stare. “You are haunted by your actions. I could help you change events long since passed. You could change a choice you made. A mistake you have made.”

Hanzo’s glare only grew fiercer, “The things you speak of are impossible. You suggest that you hold a mastery over time? It is impossible. Time is an invention of the human mind that magic has no control over.”

She hummed as she dragged her hand along his arm as she pulled away from him. “Not for me.”

“Not yet.” The woman in purple added. The Witch sent the woman a chilling glare, which she only shrugged to.

Hanzo gripped his bow tighter. He knew the witch would try to tempt him, it’s what they do.

The Witch turned back to Hanzo, “So tell me archer, what is it you desire?”

She gave him that same lifeless, hollow smile.

The dragons stirred on his arm, they hungered. He drew an arrow from his quiver and had it notched and aimed at the Witch’s head in a heartbeat.

“I want to kill you.” he declared firmly.

She shrugged. Hanzo had hoped she would fight back, make it more of a challenge, but these westerners and their monsters were coming to be a real disappointment.

He was ready to unleash the dragons, when a massive fist crashed into him. His arrow flew uselessly to the side. Hanzo turned to face his new opponent.

He looked like a man. His dark skin spoke of a far away land that Hanzo had yet to see and markings that appeared to be of a tribal origin. He almost looked like a man, except his arm. His right arm was massive, clearly not human, and spikes protruded from his shoulder.

“Don’t kill him Doomfist. He is an unusual one. He could be of use to us.”

The not-man, Doomfist, spoke as he wearily circled the archer, “With all due respect Witch, I fail to see a human’s use.”

Hanzo notched another arrow and let his dragons encompass it. His arrow flew as his dragons stormed hungrily through the air. The Witch had hastily flown away on dark wings with his beast’s appearance. Doomfist had been taken by surprise. The dragons ripped at him for only a few seconds before he tore free with a dash. He spat blood.

“I see… That was indeed a neat trick to have effected a demon like myself.”

The Witch hummed her agreement from somewhere above.

“Try not to break him too much.”

With the Witch’s permission Doomfist launched his offensive, Hanzo desperately fired arrows between dodging the deadly fist. He was close, but Hanzo was managing to keep a step ahead. The massive fist flew dangerously close to Hanzo’s arm, just barely clipping his sleeve. He needed to trap the demon. Lock it in place. Then his dragons could feast upon him.

Hanzo eyed a hallway between punches. It would do. He stood in front of it, arrow ready, and waited for the attack.

Doomfist flew towards him and Hanzo easily jumped over the blow. The fist carried its owner past Hanzo’s position and buried itself in the wall at the other end of the hall.

Nowhere to run. Hanzo moved swiftly. Letting his spirit beasts claim his arrow. The demon’s eyes widened with realization of his fatal mistake.

Hanzo let his arrow fly- but his dragons did not.

“Wow Akande. That was close.” Hanzo whirled around to see the woman in purple smiling at him. He had failed to sense her. Her clawed hand glowed faintly.

Another punch hit Hanzo square in the back, throwing him and his weapon forward.

“Thank you Sombra.” Doomfist grumbled.

The woman, Sombra, laughed. “Well, ya know, just doing what I do.”

Hanzo reached for his fallen bow, but was met with a blow to his face from the Doomfist’s other hand.

“Now, now. That’s enough.” The Witch, deeming that the threat had been dealt with, glided down from her hiding spot. She crouched beside Hanzo, who was struggling to get up with his injured body. She whispered in his ear, “Now I’m going to give you a gift. An old friend. You are strong. He will make you stronger. Accept him.” The Witch’s wicked smile sent a shiver down his spine. He felt dark magic stirring around her. A spirit responded to her dark call. A demon of anger and hate. She took hold of this darkness and forced it into Hanzo. Not just trapping it inside him, but making it part of him.

Suddenly Hanzo could feel nothing but searing pain. It felt like all of his flesh was being peeled off and that his bones were glass. Anger festered inside of him like a hateful infection. Thoughts that weren’t his screamed in his mind. Memories flashed before him. Blood. Slaughter. Being torn asunder by two dragons. Laughter.

Hanzo’s blood froze in his veins. He thought he had killed it. The demon who stole his brother. It was now inside of him.

Hanzo’s own anger rose, and his skin turned a hideous grey before his very eyes. He felt demonic strength course through his veins. Then a voice like a harsh whisper.

 

_You are not like your brother. He was weak, he wouldn’t feed my hate. But you, you are strong. There is so much hate and anger inside you. I like you. I like you very much. We will bathe this world in blood, you and I._

 

Hanzo struggled to calm himself amidst the pain. He couldn’t let it have him. His arm burned. It was agony. His dragons, they were clawing at him viciously.

The demon inside him screamed and the anger and pain subsided. His skin returned to its natural hue. It was gone.

Hanzo panted weakly on the floor, his internal battle had left him even more exhausted.

The Witch’s voice brought him back, “Hmmmmm… Interesting. I didn’t expect your spirits to turn against you like that, even if it was helping.” He looked at the Witch’s smug face and felt his own hate rise up again with a fury. He noted that his skin had once again turned a dead grey as he forced himself to his knees and struggled to draw his bow.

“What have you done to me?” he spat at the Witch, who just smiled in turn.

“I bound that demon to you, and I must say, it is already rather fascinating. I didn’t expect you to take on a demonic form, a pleasant bonus.”

Pain and fatigue rolled over Hanzo in droves as he struggled to maintain his consciousness. He had to hold on a second longer. He had to kill her. His tired body could not keep up with his resolve. His vision faded. The Witch’s laughter echoed in his head as he felt himself lost in the darkness.


	3. All Roads Lead to Aldersbrunn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo gets adopted.  
> Mercy tries to kill her friends.  
> Genji pines.  
> McCree is a bad ass.  
> Mei does something new.  
> Jamison is pleased with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out from grave, laptop in hand. gutteral zombie noises. hits submit*
> 
> So yeah. I'm alive! Sorry for the wait yall, life has a way of fucking me over. Remember when I said I would have Chapter 3 done by thanksgiving? Ha good times.  
> For those of you who waited, I hope it was worth the wait. And let it be known that this chapter is a lot longer than I intended for it to be. But ya know. I had to get stuff rolling.  
> So yeah, here it is. Weeks of writing, days of typing, and now I can finally post.
> 
> So thanks for those who still care about little ol me, your comments have kept me going.

 

 

_ Wake up. _

It was that voice again. Why wouldn’t it let him rest?

_ Wake up. Someone is coming. We have to kill them before they have the chance to end us. _

Hanzo rolled onto his back in the dirt, yesterday’s events still heavy in his mind and body. Yes, it had been one of  _ those _ days.

He snorted, “Good. Let them kill me, and you with me.”

_ That is not an option. Stand up and fight. _

Rage surged through his veins like fire. Hate ate at his very core. Hate for his clan, his family, for himself. He let it overcome him, feeling all too deserving of his own hatred, and with it he felt his body change again.

_ We have work to do. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The alchemist wandered through the dense woods, rifle in hand, loaded with her own special concoction, toxic to her foes and with healing properties for her allies. The woods were unnaturally silent, and this wasn’t an old woman’s paranoia. Even the insects were as still as the grave, all too petrified to move, let alone buzz and chirp. The fearless wind swept through the trees in a cold hush.

A groan pierced the silence like thunder.

She cocked her gun, ready and loaded. She crept forward, steady and silent, like the ghost she was. Her heart hammered away in her chest. Not from fear, no, she had faced much worse than anything these woods could conjure up, but from anticipation. She was an old soldier. She had taken countless lives through her scope. While now she focused on saving lives, she was still more than lethal.

“I know you’re there.” A husky, eastern voice sounded out, calm and clear like water. “Kill me.” His words startled her, but she pressed onward, eager to find the source, and possibly end him.

She stopped in her tracks just before the last bit of brush that separated them.

“I have been made a monster, or perhaps I always was one. Even now I fight for control.”

She pushed the last bit of brush aside with the barrel of her gun, removing the curtain separating them. Now free of obstruction, she looked down at the man in the dirt.

Grey skin. White eyes. Horns. Dark marks.

Traits of a demon. Yet the body before her was undoubtedly human.

His white eyes seemed to glow as he focused on her rifle.

“Do it.” he ordered in a rough whisper.

The Alchemist lowered her rifle, she was not one to obey men or demons.

The man became agitated. He sat up and screamed, “DO IT!”

She raised her hand and fired a single dart in his neck. He pulled it out and examined it.

Of course it was going to take more than one.

His white eyes stared in confusion, a face that did not match his demonic features. She let loose two more darts and the man collapsed again.

The grey faded from his skin to its natural eastern hue. The horrid markings on his face faded away as the dragon tattoo on his arm became a calming blue, and she swore for a second, she saw them move.

The evidence was clear before her, this was definitely a human.

Few things could do this to a man. The alchemist grimaced as she thought of the nearest of those capable. She fingered the special dart she was saving for  _ her _ .

“Looks like the Witch is up to something again.” she said to no one in particular. For the Witch to have done this… she had been gathering allies for years, and the Alchemist had been systematically hunting and eliminating many potential servants to the Witch. But this, this was different. The Witch had been gathering more now, and she was getting sloppy. Something was coming. Soon.

It was time for the Alchemist to return home. To Aldersbrunn. If the Witch was ready to make her move, it could only mean trouble.

~~~~~~~~~

 

When Hanzo awoke again he felt the scratch of rope against his being and the rough bark of a tree at his back. His hands were bound in front of him and further bound to his neck. Every shift of his bound limbs seemed to tighten the noose.

“Ah, good you are awake dear.”

An older woman was hunched over a fire, prodding it with a stick. Her silvery hair hung freely to her side in a braid. An eyepatch concealed her right eye and under her left was a mark from a land foreign to Hanzo.

Hanzo had vague memories of her. Most clear of which was her shooting him with… something.

“How are you feeling?” she smiled at him. But behind that smile he could feel her appraising him.

“Who are you?” he spat out at her with a vicious frown and a deeply furrowed brow.

The woman gave a light chuckle, “Oh, so serious! Fret not, I will not harm you.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes at her and she only continued to smile. She was like some insufferable grandparent smiling down at a rampaging child.

“Ana Amari. I’m an alchemist.” She paused her speech to throw another branch into the hungry flames, “Now how about you dear?” Her only eye fixated on him.

Hanzo remained quiet.

Alchemy was dangerously close to witchcraft. And he had had  _ more _ than enough of witches.

The woman shrugged off his silence and reached behind the fallen log she had perched on, bringing forth his bow. He tried to not visibly react, but he felt like nothing escaped this old crone’s one eye.

“Well I found this with you, so I assume you’re an archer. I’ll just call you that for now dear.” She placed his bow down as she hunched forward on her seat. “Now tell me Archer, who was it that cursed you?”

Hanzo continued to glare.

“It is a curse, is it not?” she lightly chuckled, “If I was a gambling woman, I would bet that it was the Witch of the Wilds.”

At the very mention of the Witch his rage surged and he felt himself change into the monster.

“Well I guess that is a yes…” she mumbled absently to herself as she stood up.

_ We need to kill her. _

The woman, Ana, tsked at him. “You will need to control your anger or that demon will consume you.”

She approached him, a small knife in hand. His fury bubbled inside him like uncontrolled fire. She crouched beside him, still with that irritating calm look.

“Don’t let it control you. Control it, use its power.”

Hanzo stared flabbergasted at the old alchemist. A man’s spirit couldn’t triumph over a demon. Could it?

_ She lies. The only reason I do not seize control now is because I want us to be of one mind. We will be stronger that way. Ignore this hag. Let’s focus on getting free. Then we can kill her. _

Shut up, monster.

_ You cannot quiet me. _

“It is a parasite, it feeds off your hate, dear. So think not of hate.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him as best as she could in a mock embrace. She hummed an unfamiliar tune.

Hanzo closed his eyes and started taking deep breaths.

_ It won’t work. _

Quiet.

_ You can’t make me go away. I am always here. _

 

He ignore the hateful whispers and began meditating, like he had when he was young and free from the burdens of his clan. When he and his brother would train, then sneak off for some mischief. He remembered the world for what it used to be, as he had seen it through the eyes of himself as a child.

He heard Ana’s knife saw through the rope binding him to the tree, then again severing his bonds holding his wrists and neck.

He opened his eyes.

Ana was standing before him, offering a cup. He reached for it with his aching hand and noticed the absence of the dead grey.

And for once, the voice was gone.

“Thank you” he mumbled as he accepted the cup. He tentatively took a sip. Water. He downed the contents and returned the cup.

Ana gave him a gentle smile as she filled and returned it to him.

This time he sipped more slowly at the refreshing liquid.

“Now would you be so kind as to tell me your story?” she sat patiently across from him.

Hanzo recounted his story, starting with his betraying his only brother and ending with his ordeal with the Witch. Ana listened intently, never once casting a judging look that Hanzo felt he deserved.

“You’ve been through quite a lot, Archer.” she pat his shoulder reassuringly.

“Hanzo.” he asserted.

A somewhat playful smile graced her features, “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stick to calling you Archer.” She gave a light chuckle.

Hanzo huffed, “Then I shall not address you by your name either, Alchemist.” He sneered.

Ana let out a full laugh at his retort. When she regained herself she asked him, “So Archer, do you still wish to kill the Witch?”

Despite her nonchalance, the atmosphere turned grim with her inquiry.

Hanzo’s mouth set into a firm line. “Indeed.”

Ana seemed pleased with his answer, “Then we have work to do.”

Hanzo nodded, ready to follow this woman to the depths of Hell itself.

The two silently stood up and started erasing the evidence the evidence of the small camp.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hanzo worried for Ana quite a bit. While she was always calling herself old, she seemed to do quite a bit of activity unbecoming of her age, although he wouldn’t dare to ask her such a thing.

In his concern he would offer to carry her after a long day of hiking and at her refusal would insist that she rested.

The few times they ran into trouble, he would draw the attention of his foes, contrary to his own fighting style, in order to keep them unaware of Ana picking them off.

Thankfully, Ana kept him healthy with her unique concoctions.

“You really shouldn’t worry about me dear, I’ve been through much worse than some ruffians and thugs.”

Hanzo would only frown.

He continued his silent vigilance, desperate to remove anything that may threaten his endearing ally’s safety.

“So are we going to the Witch?”

“Not yet dear.”

“Then where?”

“Aldersbrunn.”

Hanzo had heard that name before in the shithole that had pointed him towards the Witch in the first place. If he recalled correctly, it was the town closest to the she-devil, and the primary focus of her attacks.

“Why there?”

“Do you really want to tangle with the Witch of the Wilds and her servants alone?”

Hanzo bit his tongue. It was true. Him and Ana would not be enough alone.

“So we will find able minded allies in Aldersbrunn?”

“I can think of a few.”

“Name them.”

She chuckled. “If they’re still alive… Jack Morrison, an old soldier like me, and Reinhardt Wilhelm, the Lord of Aldersbrunn, both are old friends of mine.”

“Just two men?” Hanzo wrinkled his nose as he thought of having to care for two other elders. No, he would let them do their own thing, he would just keep Ana safe.

“And anyone else brave enough to try to eliminate the Witch.”

“What do you know of her?”

Ana hummed absently, “Just theories. All of them farfetched. Nothing solid enough to suggest yet.”

“Try me.”

Ana sighed. “There are several powerful entities here, godlike beings in their own right, that only surface a few times each century. One such theory I entertained was that the Witch might be one of those.”

“That sounds reasonable enough.”

“In this area there are two such beings. Both however are reported to be very indifferent beings. The Witch is cruel and has some kind of agenda, and despite her power, she is not nearly strong enough to be one of these ancient beings.”

“So what is she?”

“Something old, something new, maybe both.”

 

Ana gave no further explanation to Hanzo’s disappointment. The old woman loved being cryptic.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Aldersbrunn was a much nicer town than the filth of Selkirk. The people here were smiling, seemingly ignorant of the monster that called this area her home, and welcomed Hanzo and Ana readily, once more obliviously letting a demon in their midst. Many seemed to recognize his companion and they would greet her with warm hugs and tears. Hanzo felt very out of place.

“We thought you were dead!” They would cry to her.

Hanzo heard the name “Pharah” whispered through the townspeople.

“Pharah’s going to be so happy!”

“Has someone told Pharah yet?”

“Pharah needs to know Ana is alive!”

Hanzo quietly observed.

Ana looked back to him between hugs and sloppy reunions. Hanzo simply nodded to her. There was work to do, but he would let her have this. However, if any of these simpletons posed a threat to his Alchemist, he would riddle them with arrows before they could reach her.

A tall woman in a guard’s uniform shoved her way through the crowd.

Hanzo’s grip on his bow instinctively tightened.

The woman took off her helmet and threw it aside. The resemblance to Ana was uncanny. Tears overflowed the woman’s eyes, leaving tracks along her dark skin. Ana’s breath seemed to hitch as the crowd cleared away to let her gaze fall upon the newcomer. Her tears finally found themselves as they started falling freely from her eye.

“Fareeha…” She whispered as she stumbled toward the imposing figure of the crying guard.

She didn’t have to stumble far as the guard ran forward to meet Ana’s open arms. They collapsed to their knees in a desperate embrace.

The guard was fully sobbing, whispering “Mom” like a prayer as Ana hushed her and stroked her dark hair.

“My dearest Fareeha, ah how you’ve grown.” Ana brushed the tears away from her daughter’s cheeks, idley rubbing the matching mark under her daughter’s eye.

“We thought… we thought the Witch killed you. We thought you were dead.” The guard choked out between sobs.

Ana continued shushing and stroking, “I’m so sorry Habibti, I had to disappear to keep you safe. If she knew who was hunting her, investigating her, she would have surely gone after you.” Ana looked into her daughter’s red rimmed eyes, “I couldn’t have that. I could never allow that.”

Pharah sobbed some more as she buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.

The crowd seemed to dissipate and give the two some privacy. Hanzo remained, ever watchful, leaning casually on a wall.

 

After another ten minutes of sobbing and hugging, Hanzo began to feel very uncomfortable. Well, he had been uncomfortable before, but he had stuck around to defend Ana. Now, he just felt like he was invading some sacred space, this was all too intimate for his liking. He shifted in his discomfort and cleared his throat.

Ana spared him a glance and nodded. She wiped her tears away and began to rise, pulling her daughter up with her.

It was at that moment that Pharah decided to notice Hanzo’s presence. She hastily reached for her discarded spear and began aggressively marching toward him. She aimed the offending weapon at him.

“Who are you?” She towered a few inches over him.

Hanzo stifled a laugh. She really hadn’t noticed him until then. He was stealthy sure, but he had exactly been trying to hide.

_ She points a weapon at us. This insult cannot stand. Kill her and the old woman. Make an example of them. _

Hanzo’s mood soured with the return of his inner demon. He quickly pushed it away.

“Now, now, Habibti. This man is here to help. He, like so many others, is a victim of the Witch’s magic.”

Pharah hesitantly lowered her weapon. With a deep breath she extended her hand to Hanzo. “I’m Pharah. I’m one of the guard captains here.”

Hanzo met her reach.

“Hanzo.” his simple reply.

Ana smiled warmly at the two.

Pharah shifted nervously, “So you have had a run in with the Witch?”

Hanzo nodded.

Pharah swallowed nervously, “Few survive the Witch. And those who do… usually do not escape… unscathed…” She eyed Hanzo with suspicion.

Hanzo grimaced.

“The Archer is not a problem dear. She cursed him yes, but he has a handle on it.”

“What kind of curse?”

Hanzo remained silent, trusting whatever answer Ana gave, if any.

“It’s fine dear, I promise.”

Hanzo was secretly relieved Ana didn’t share.

Pharah sighed deeply, “Look we aren’t going to attack you or anything. We just need to know in case you…” Pharah shifted nervously “Lose control…” Hanzo’s glare could have killed a lesser man. Pharah shrugged. “We are a lot more tolerant of cursed beings now. Hell, we got an ex-Hunter who tangled with the Witch and walked away with the werewolf’s curse.”

Hanzo raised his glorious Shimada eyebrows.

“He was more than forthcoming with his curse. Even though he’s got a handle on it, he lets us chain him up in the dungeon every full moon.”

Ana laughed, “Well that certainly is interesting.”

Pharah nodded with a smile, “McCree is a bit of an oddity, but we are glad to have him. He patrols the woods and helps with any attacks. The man is the best damn shot I’ve ever seen. He’s saved countless lives since settling here.”

“I would like to meet him.” Hanzo asserted.

Pharah shook her head, “Later. First you and my mother should see Lord Reinhardt.”

Ana visibly lit up, “Reinhardt is still alive?”

Pharah nodded with an obnoxious grin, “Oh yes, he is still as lively as ever.”

Ana started making her way through town, with Hanzo and Pharah trailing behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ana rushed through the massive doors of the castle. Her breath hitching when she laid eyes on the elderly giant slumped in the throne. He was listening boredly to some stuffy advisor, he was clearly losing a battle to keep his eyes open as he yawned absently.

Ana admired his imposing form.

The buffoon babbled away incessantly as Ana calmly strode forth, only vaguely aware of Hanzo and Fareeha’s presence behind her. Reinhardt groggily lulled his head to the side to observe his new visitors. His gaze lazily wandered over them for a second, and he blinked in vague recognition.

In a heartbeat he was off his throne and charging toward Ana with a massive smile and a hearty laugh.

Upon seeing what Hanzo could only describe as some sort of man-bear charging at him and his elderly ally, he protectively positioned himself between Ana and the giant.

The behemoth stopped only briefly in his charge, taking in Hanzo’s presence with a confused expression. Hanzo fearlessly stood his ground before the towering figure.

The giant’s face switched from concern to joy in a mere second, and he laughed as he wrapped his thick arms around both Hanzo and Ana behind him.

His every word was a shout as he jubially bellowed “Ana! My friend it is good to see you!”

Ana chuckled, seemily immune to the assault on her ears, “Reinhardt, I must say you are looking quite well. This life must agree with you.”

The giant hummed, “And you are looking as lovely as ever.”

Hanzo was NOT comfortable in this position. And Pharah looking like she was busting her side was NOT helping either. He firmly tried to elbow the larger man, although to him, it may have seemed like a light poke.

“Oh! And who is this little man you have brought with you? Oh look at the serious face, you should smile some more friend!” The older man offered his best grin. To which Hanzo gave his most serious frown (he was quite good at those).

Hanzo could hear Ana’s smile in her voice, “My companion is always like that. I think he was never hugged enough as a child.”

If Hanzo could have turned to face the traitorous Alchemist, he might have just shot her a glare that would have turned her to stone.

Oddly enough though, Reinhardt actually released the two and Hanzo was quick to scurry out of arm’s reach.

Ana brushed off her shoulder, “It really is great to see you again Reinhardt. I have much to tell you.”

She and Reinhardt shared an intense gaze, which Hanzo had more than enough of at this point. He was very uncomfortable, unlike Pharah who seemed to be hopeful at whatever this was. He preferred being the intruder on the reunion between mother and daughter. This was… this was something else. He loudly cleared his throat.

The older two seemed to realize the spectators to their little show, almost like they had been there the whole time.

Ana motioned toward Hanzo, not missing a beat, “My companion here is Hanzo. He is rather pouty and grumpy at times,” Hanzo shot Ana a look, “but overall he is a nice boy.”

Reinhardt let out a thunderous laugh as he thrust his massive hand towards Hanzo, “I am Reinhardt Wilhelm, Lord of Aldersbrunn! It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!”

Hanzo felt that he had already been  _ more _ than enough acquainted with this man. He stared at the massive hand outstretched before him. Well, he had always been one for manners… He proudly extended his own hand to meet the giant’s reach.

He had expected a simple handshake. But no. He was yanked forth into another crushing hug.

“Easy now Reinhardt, not everyone is a friendly as you,” Pharah chuckled out.

A door burst open as the Lord reluctantly released his victim. A scarred grumpy looking older man stormed in, and Pharah immediately did a firm salute to the newcomer. The stony faced man looked to Ana, who Reinhardt pointed to with a big smile, then his hard gaze shifted to Hanzo. His eyes narrowed, but he returned his attention to Ana.

“It’s good to see you again Amari.”

“Likewise Jack.”

His steely blue eyes fell on Hanzo again, “And this is?”

“This is Hanzo!” Reinhardt bellowed with all the confidence of someone who had known him for years, instead of mere minutes.

Jack did not look pleased with the answer.

Ana helpfully added, “He had a run in with our mutual friend, the Witch of the Wilds, and more importantly, he survived it. Now he wants to help get rid of her for good.”

Jack’s hard frown deepened. “Another one? She’s getting sloppy. Alright then, what’s your story?”

Hanzo gave the old soldier a simplified version of his story, starting and ending with his failed assault on the Witch’s castle. And with an encouraging nod from Ana, he even begrudgingly shared with them the situation with his inner demon.

“You just walked through her front door? That worked?” Hanzo couldn’t tell if the Soldier was impressed or shocked. Probably a bit of both.

“Well yes, there was no sneaking up of her with all the warding she had on that place.”

“Well fuck. We knew about the lady in purple, McCree had seen her too. But this Doomfist guy… fuck we know so little about what’s holed up in that fortress.”

McCree. Hanzo had heard that name before. He was the Hunter, the one who survived the Witch.

“I would very much like to meet this McCree.”

The Soldier snorted, “He’s probably off in the woods. His cabin is at the edge of town on the east side, Pharah can show you, but if he isn’t in the woods, he’ll most likely be in Oxton’s bar.”

Hanzo nodded to the Soldier as he left the castle with Pharah in tow. He would leave Ana to recruit the Soldier and Lord. He would see if this Hunter was of any value to them.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ana shrugged off the accompanying silence, “She is up to something, you know.”

She motioned for the men to follow her to a small meeting room, which still thankfully housed the large table and chairs the three had once gathered around so many years ago.

Jack grumbled bitterly, “She’s been up to something since the day she first appeared.”

Reinhardt pulled out a chair for her, ever the gentleman, “Come now friends, let us not be so glum.” When she had been seated, he retreated out the room, returning with a cask of beer and his brightest smile. “Ana has returned to us, now is the time to celebrate!”

Even Jack seemed to lighten, if only a little. “Alright, but just one drink.”

  
  


Jack slammed down his fourth mug. “Who was first?”

Ana shook her head, “Sorry Jack, Rein finished his just before you.”

The Lord let out a hearty laugh, “I am the chugging champion! All will fall before me!”

Jack groaned. Then hiccuped. They all burst out in laughter.

It felt good to do that again. To be with friends. Nostalgia washed over her as she looked at the empty seats at their table, and she couldn’t help but see the ghosts of lost friends laughing with them.

“The hunter you mentioned… he lives in Gerald and Amelie’s doesn’t he?”

The table quieted. Jack gave a solemn nod to the seat Gerald used to occupy, knife marks still embedded in the table from all the games he would play. Ana stroked her mug. Rein downed the contents of his.

“We never found her.”

Amelie. Poor sweet Amelie. She vanished the night Gerald was butchered. A week later, the Witch appeared. Ana always wondered if her dear friends had perhaps been the Witch’s first victims.

They had searched for her of course. They did so for weeks, but found nothing. It drove poor Gabriel mad. He wanted so desperately to save her. Amelie may have been married to Gerald, but she was a friend to all of them, even if she was the only one lacking any sort of military status or training that the rest all possessed.

Then of course there was Gabriel. He was a force to be reckoned with. He was fierce, fearless, and not as stone cold as he always pretended to be. He had a good heart hidden under his gruff exterior, and Jack had found his way in, just as Gabriel had wormed his way into Jack’s. They were so happy. Then the Witch came. Gabriel had searched weeks after the others gave up hope of even finding Amelie’s body. A year had passed before Gabe had finally lost it. He couldn’t stand it, not being able to do anything, he had been a man of action after all. He hunted her down. Followed her to her den of evil. Then she killed him.

Poor Jack had been the one to find what was left of Gabe. His body had crumbled to ash at his touch. It was probably then that Jack forgot how to smile. They used to be so happy…

It was shortly after then that Ana embarked on her mission to bring an end to the Witch. She was given an opportunity when one of the Witch’s minions had shot her in the eye. That day she became a ghost and the Witch didn’t even know to look over her shoulder.

Ana looked up to her companions, her old comrades looked just as sullen as she felt.

They had all lost so much because of  _ her _ . She had to be stopped.

Violent blasts startled the group. They could hear screams coming from the guards outside. Jack and Ana readied their respective firearms while Reinhardt grabbed a massive hammer from its decoration stand.

“Stand behind me friends, I will be your shield.” He positioned himself between his friends and the door. Jack begrudgingly nodded. Jack was tough, but Reinhardt was tougher.

The Lord reached for the handle of the door. Splinters exploded towards them as yet another blast echoed throughout the halls.

Caution tossed to the wind, Reinhardt smashed what remained of the door with his hammer, bravely charging forward whilst looking for the attacker.

Black mist swirled about and coalesced into the form of the Reaper.

“ _ Death comes. _ ”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hanzo idly walked about the town. He would rather be lost among these sheep than be stuck in another one of the giant man’s hugs. That man was too affectionate for Hanzo’s liking.

Hanzo slowed his pace, realizing that as he let his thoughts race, so too had he.

He permitted himself a deep sigh. He had only known Ana for a few days, but he actually liked her, which was truly a rare feat. She was smart and capable, she knew her own limits, but Hanzo still had a desire to protect her. He just hoped she knew her limits when dealing with the large Lord. If he returned to find Ana’s crushed body, he would have his dragons tear the man asunder.

He was getting soft, he had been losing his touch. He had just let that man grab him. Fuck. He needed a drink. He vaguely remembered being told that the Hunter was often at the bar… A shame he had waved Pharah off shortly after exiting the castle.

He got directions to the small, unimpressive bar. Hanzo felt very underwhelmed. He felt that a town plagued by evil such as this would have a grand bar. Instead it was just so… normal.

He sat himself at bar where a borish looking brunette began to approach.

“Hey there luv! Haven’t seen you around here… Oh are you the man who came in with Ana?”

Hanzo looked around for a bartender.

“The name’s Lena! So if you came with Ana… I guess you’ve met Reinhardt then, love that big guy. Heart of gold on that one. So what brings you to town?”

Hanzo did his best to ignore the peppy brunette.

“You’re not much of a talker are you? That’s ok. I can do enough talking for you! If there’s anything you want to know about the town, I’m your girl! Name’s Lena by the way.”

Hanzo looked around the bar again. It was just him and this Lena. He idly wondered how mad Ana would be if he murdered this woman. She probably had that parental type of rage, the “I’m not mad, just disappointed” look. Weirdly enough the prospect of it seemed to make him shiver.

“Are ya cold luv? Don’t worry I got a fine selection of whiskey that’ll put a fire in your belly.”

She waltzed behind the bar.  _ She  _ was the bartender.

“So let's see what can I get for ya…” She pondered as she looked at her selection of spirits.

“Sake.” She seemed to jump at the only word Hanzo had offered before she smiled and produced a small bottle.

“On the house for bringing Ana home, besides no one else drinks this stuff. Me ‘n Pharah been mates for a long time. She really missed her mum yeah. Ya did a good thing bringing her home.”

Hanzo was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if it meant having to listen to this woman’s prattle.

“I haven’t seen Ana since I was young - well, younger. The woman’s a legend. An old war buddy of old Morrison and Reinhardt. Love that big guy. We thought she’d been killed by one of the Witch’s cronies. Jack saw her get hit. Couldn’t go get her. When she never made it back, we just thought she was dead. Jack felt bad leaving her behind, but at the time he had been escorting people to safety. Tough choice. Saving the people you’re sworn to protect or going to save a lifelong friend.”

Hanzo quietly sipped his sake, hoping she would shut up.

She looked at him expectantly for a few blissful seconds, but with his silence, came more of her yammering.

“You’re not gonna make any friends with an attitude like that.”

Hanzo was most certainly not here to make friends.

She pouted, “Well I betcha McCree will get you talking, or smiling, or both. He’s good at that.”

That name again, McCree.

“He’s also a real badass that one. He helps keep the town safe, no one wants to mess with a town under a werewolf’s protection. Even the Witch’s goons can’t really mess with us without him tearing them apart. I mean, sure, the Witch hasn’t come herself, but I mean she never does anyway. Like I think she’s only been present for a handful of attacks of the hundreds she’s orchestrated. Most of the time she sends her enforcer the Reaper. Oooh spooky. Got chills just thinking about him.”

_ This woman is irritating. _

Hanzo groaned. This was turning out to be a  _ great _ day so far.

The barmaid seemed to ignore his transgression and continued her prattle, “But anyway, all joking aside, the Reaper is a nasty crock of shit. Shot McCree’s arm off he did! But the poor bastard got himself a new one now. He found some scientist or doctor out in those woods, he’s real mysterious about it if ya ask him though. We used to have our own mad scientist. He up and left a while ago. Shame really. He was a unique fellow. I know a lot of people didn’t like him, but he was a nice enough guy. Don’t get me wrong though, he was crazy -- stark raving mad, but oh he was brilliant. You shoulda seen his machines… but yeah he’s gone now.”

_ When does this woman find time to breathe? _

Hanzo held up his empty bottle before the Lena woman could begin her next bout.

“Oh, righto, another sake luv?”

Hanzo nodded.

“Coming right up. So as I was saying-”

_ Something comes. _

Hanzo made the executive decision to ignore his demon, favoring Lena’s prattle over it.

“I really hope Junkenstein made it out ok. Lots of nasties in the woods. Well less of ‘em now, but we didn’t have McCree back when he left. Speaking of, McCree should be here pretty soon, he’s one of my regulars. Always stops by. I get worried when he don’t.”

Hanzo took interest in this information.

“Yeah, he should be wandering back to town around now. Oh you should meet him…” she paused in thought for one second before scratching the back of her head sheepishly, “uh, what did you say your name was luv?”

“Hanzo.” She gave him free booze, she at least earned the right to speak his name.

“Right, Hanzo. You would probably like him. Better yet, you don’t seem to be the type who would be scared off by a silly little curse.”

Somehow, Hanzo doubted one should describe the curse of lycanthropy as  _ silly _ or  _ little _ .

_ It is here. _

What?

_ Something dark, but not demonic. _

Hanzo threw some coins on the bar and grabbed his bow.

“Where you off to in such a hurry? I want you to meet my friend! Plus you haven’t even finished your drink!”

Shouts came from outside. Children crying, people screaming in fear. A few burst into the bar, slamming the door firmly behind them.

“The Reaper is here!”

Hanzo pushed past the people by the door and forced his way out. He was greeted by darkness itself. He was there one moment, then gone the next.

_ He is still nearby. If we move quickly we can eliminate him. _

Hanzo channeled the power of his dragons. Through the dragon’s eyes he saw the darkness enter the very castle he had just left Ana alone in.

_ That is a useful trick. _

Hanzo took off in a run, rushing towards death itself. Soon he could hear the blasts and gunfire.

Just outside the large splintered doors he could barely make out the bloodied bodies of a few guards, none of them Pharah. Hanzo quietly stepped past them. Just inside he could see the shadowy form of the Reaper.

He floated around in a dark mist while Reinhardt harmlessly swung a massive hammer through his spectral form.

Ana and the Soldier circled around the Reaper patiently.

_ He will be vulnerable soon. _

Hanzo notched an arrow.

The Reaper materialized, quick to deliver devastating shots on the Lord, causing him to drop his weapon mid swing. Ana and the Soldier didn’t miss a beat. The Soldier started a hail of gunfire upon the unholy abomination while Ana fired her healing shots upon the injured giant, his wounds bleeding less and less with each added shot.

Hanzo joined the fight, loosing a scattering arrow, turning the Reaper into a very angry pincushion. The Reaper whirled around and fired upon Hanzo as he was notching a new arrow.

Shrapnel from the blast seared his shoulder. Pain seared through him like wildfire, spreading down to his arm and neck.

_ We will not let this offense stand. _

Through the pain Hanzo gripped his bow with renewed vigor, pain only fueling his rage. Jack seemed to take in Hanzo’s demonic form with little regard. A quick nod between the two and they knew to trust the other.

Hanzo pressed closer to the Reaper, ducking and weaving between between dangerous blasts with Jack and Reinhardt closing in on their end and Ana firing her healing tonic on those in need.

They had the monster trapped, surrounded on all sides, nowhere left to run.

They had him.

The Reaper stopped fighting defensively. He erupted in a hail of gunfire. Raining shotgun blasts upon the three warriors and their alchemist.

“ _ DIE! DIE! DIE! _ ”

His voice was as awful as his appearance as he called for their deaths with every blast.

Reinhardt had taken the brunt of the damage in his attempt to protect Ana, but Hanzo and Jack were no longer confident in their ability to repel the Reaper.

The Reaper let out his own rasped laugh as he tossed aside his empty guns, which just faded into smoke as he produced new ones from seemingly nowhere.

_ BANG! _

The Reaper collapsed to the floor, disolving into the same wretched mist he had appeared from. The only thing remaining of the monster was the destruction he wrought and a white mask.

“Did somebody call the undertaker?”

The man who felled the monster with a single shot holstered his firearm and tipped his ridiculous hat, with the most  _ irritating  _ shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Howdy.”

~~~~~~~~~ Earlier ~~~~~~~~~

 

McCree let himself inside Mercy’s cottage. He could hear his dear friend busy in the kitchen, McCree desperately hoped whatever toxic meal she was creating wasn’t ready yet. Mercy may not have been evil, but her cooking surely was.

It wasn’t that she was a bad cook. In fact, sometimes she could make the most tantalizing of meals, so long as McCree stopped her before she sabotaged her own cooking. And then there were the things she made that just made no sense whatsoever. Most of what made her cooking unbearable was her lack of knowledge of what was actually edible. She had a tendency to add strange things to what would be perfectly good dishes. Her ignorance of such simple things made McCree’s heart ache for her. She had been alone in the woods for a long time before him. It was no wonder she was so desperate to please the only two people she knew.

He entered the kitchen to see Mercy sprinkle bits of purple powder on a slab of raw meat decorated with some of Mercy’s favorite (and McCree’s least favorite) beetles. So there was already no saving this meal. McCree tried his best not to shiver.

“Ah! Jesse I didn’t hear you come in.”

McCree returned his sunny host’s warm smile with one of his own, paired with finger guns. “So… what’s cookin’ good lookin?”

Mercy smiled as she pulled out a rolling pin and stated bludgeoning the meat.

“I don’t know what to call it, but I’m sure it’ll be tasty when it’s done… do you think it needs apples?”

McCree shook his head as she, to his horror, threw in two whole eggs (which he knew she had buried outside two days ago) and began mashing them in with more bugs. The combined smell made the gunslinger’s stomach spin.

“Uh… I bet it’ll be mighty fine.” McCree shifted uneasily as sweet Mercy continued mashing. “So where’s Genji?”

“You didn’t see him outside?”

McCree shook his head, “I’ll go take another look.”

McCree sashayed out, leaving Mercy to her “cooking”. He wandered out around back but still saw no sign of Genji.

He opened his senses.

He listened past Mercy’s humming between strikes and the accompanying songs of birds through the rustling of trees until he finally settled on the sound of metal striking stone coupled with heavy, slightly mechanized breathing.

McCree walked a bit til he found Genji brutally hacking away at a cluster of defenseless trees and the odd rock. That guy could be so hot and cold sometimes.

McCree leaned on an intact tree, “Howdy there Genji, care to let me know what those trees did to you?”

Genji turned and glared at McCree, most of his scarred face obscured by his mask.

“Laugh it up cowboy, laugh it up.” He sheathed his sword and crossed his arms, “What do you want?”

“Mercy’s busy in the kitchen again.”

Genji visibly winced.

“How long?”

“It was still raw when I left, so we hopefully got an hour to prepare.”

Genji sat on a stump, one of his heat vents letting out a hiss with his movement.

“She thinks I have an obsession with apples. She says it’s not healthy to eat so many… now she’s started trying to add them to her dishes.”

“One of these days, we’re gonna have to tell her she’s an awful cook.”

Genji snorted, “You can tell her.” 

“No way! I don’t have the heart to do that to her.”

“Then I guess she’ll never know.”

The two sat in companionable silence. They were… kinda friends? McCree wasn’t really sure if Genji hated him or not. He may have not liked the Swordsman at first, but soon he felt comfortable leaving Mercy under Genji’s watchful eyes. Plus, he was a fucking ninja. And any ninja is awesome in McCree’s book. Sometimes McCree would catch a glimpse of a more carefree Genji, he liked to imagine that was what he had been like before he had been betrayed, turned into a monster, then ripped apart. Bad things like that had a tendency to do that to people he supposed.

“Genji! Jesse! Food’s ready!”

Both men flinched.

“I thought you said we had an hour!” Genji hissed in a harsh whisper.

“I thought we did! It was raw when I left!” McCree paused with a sudden revelation, “Oh God she used magic to cook again.”

Genji muttered something he didn’t quite catch.

“God help us.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Genji’s senses were on high alert. He could sense the threat and despite his instincts screaming for him to run, he pressed forward, ready for his next fight for survival.

He sat at his spot at the small table, diagonal from McCree. He prayed to any gods out there that Mercy would chose to sit next to him for this meal.

Genji and McCree may not have exactly been friends, but they were most certainly allies when it came to mealtime. They had developed a system that had yet to fail them so far. The plan was simple. Whoever was the unlucky one sweet Mercy sat across from, they would be the sacrifice, the one to garner Mercy’s attention often by taking a bite. The lucky soul sitting next to Mercy would quickly and quietly eliminate the hazardous material from their own plate. After disposal, they would draw Mercy’s focus so the sacrifice could have a chance to dispose of their own meal.

Genji stared down McCree from across the table, each hoping that the other would be the gentle witch’s victim.

Mercy walked in balancing three plates. She set a plate in front of Genji, he did his best not to gag, even with his face plate still obscuring his mouth. The next plate she placed in front of the cowboy, who managed to keep a smile, albeit fake, plastered on his face.

She set the final plate down and took her seat across from Genji, which led McCree to send a victorious smirk to the ill fated Swordsman.

Genji frowned beneath his mask. Next time cowboy. Next time… 

He mentally prepared himself to, as the cowboy would say, “bite the bullet”.

Genji removed his mask with a click, his hands steady with the practiced movement despite his hestiance.

“I hope you boys like it! I cooked it as fast as I could! I used a little magic to speed up the cooking.”

Genji saw McCree safely grimace out of Mercy’s peripheral vision. Neither men really liked magic to begin with, but when Mercy used magic in cooking, that was just a whole other level of wrong.

“Thank you for the meal.” Genji muttered as he finally looked down at the horror on his plate.

It might’ve been meat, but it was just as likely a piece of coal.

He cut a slice as McCree offered his own false thanks. To his horror the inside was red and seemed to ooze yellow with little bits of off-white chips and small pieces of decimated bugs adorning the bloody inside.

Genji kept his shock hidden by a calm facade. He peeked up to Mercy, who was taking a bite herself, seemingly impervious to her own wicked creation.

Her face lit up with the first bite, “Mein Gott, it’s delicious!” she quickly took another bite. “You really must try it Genji!” Her blue eyes shone proudly and pleadingly at him.

He couldn’t let her down.

He brought the slice to his mouth as McCree began dumping his food into a basket beneath the table.

He had survived worse. He could survive this.

He took a bite.

He had never been so wrong.

What he had just  _ willingly _ put in his mouth was wrong in so many ways. Meat was not meant to taste like that. It certainly shouldn’t  _ feel _ like that.

He felt his body involuntarily begin to wretch. To eject this abomination he had put in his mouth. But no, he would sooner die than hurt his kind host, his savior. He still had work to do.

With chewing came a whole new level of wrong as he got to feel everything Mercy had lovingly put in the meal. Meat was not meant to be both crunchy and sloshy.

Mercy looked at him expectantly. Her blue eyes locked on him, completely unaware of the cowboy who had finished disposing of the evidence.

Genji swallowed, and for just one second, he cracked. He choked out “Kuso!”

Mercy looked horrified. He couldn’t have that.

“Sorry! I just swallowed too fast!” Not his best lie, but this is what he was going to roll with, “It tastes amazing, thank you Mercy.”

To make a point he cut another slice and swallowed it whole, not wanting to go through the whole horror again.

Her face softened. “I told you to chew your food properly before you swallow.”

She seemed to ponder something, her eyes still locked on Genji.

“Genji?”

“Yes?”

“What does ‘kuso’ mean?”

Genji nearly choked again as the Gunslinger, who had hear Genji let out slurs of cursing in his native language in the past, stifled a laugh.

Genji panicked, “It means ‘delicious’!” Today was not his day.

McCree just about snorted as Mercy lit up, “Oh thank you for teaching me that Genji,” she also added a little quieter, averting her eyes from his for once as pink lightly dusted her cheeks, “and thank you for the compliment…”

Looking at her now, Genji almost didn’t mind the ache from the monstrosity in his digestive tract. He could forget all his pain, just getting lost in the crystalline pools of her eyes.

McCree broke the prolonged silence with a loud belch.

Mercy’s eyes shifted to the cowboy as Genji felt the basket collide with his feet under the table.

“Well ‘kuso’ indeed darlin’ that was de-licious.” McCree leaned back to further draw Mercy’s eyes away from Genji, who swiftly erased all traces of the meal and kicked the basket further along towards the door.

“Jesse! How many times have I told you? You mustn’t eat so fast, you’ll get sick.”

The gunslinger shrugged, “Couldn’t help myself. But damn! I sure am stuffed.”

Genji cleared his throat as he snapped his face plate back on, “Yes, I am quite full as well.”

“Not you too Genji? Did you two even chew?” She let out a tired sigh, “I’m glad you both enjoyed it, but at least try to take care of yourselves.”

She picked up their empty plates, “I’m going to finish cleaning up in here, why don’t you two go have some fun?”

Both men nodded and made their hasty retreat as the witch returned to her lair. McCree grabbed the basket by the door with a lopsided grin, “‘Kuso’?”

Genji elbowed the taller man as he opened the door, his own grin hidden beneath his mask.

Neither man expected the being waiting patiently on the other side. The two stared in stunned silence as they took in the appearance of the most unthreatening looking man either had seen.

“Peace be upon you.”   
  


~~~~~~~~~~~

Now very few beings could successfully sneak up on the Gunslinger (Genji being one of the few). And normally his first instinct would be to draw his beloved Peacekeeper, yet he did no such thing.

He felt no hostility coming from the tiny bald man before him. In fact, he couldn’t get a read on the little guy at all. Although what baffled McCree the most was that the man had no scent, like he was some other worldly being not really there.

The Gunslinger felt his friend try to slink back behind him, he did seem kinda shy about his appearance (although the Gunslinger strongly doubted he would ever let Mercy know).

Seeming to notice Genji’s attempt at a ninja vanish, the little man reached out toward Genji, not quite touching him, “I mean you no harm. I am here to help.”

Genji flinched.

McCree seemed to find his voice, channeling as much nonchalance as he could, “Hey there, so what brings you to this neck of the woods?” He hoped Mercy was still busy in the kitchen.

The little man smiled, “I am Zenyatta.”

“That’s great, but why are you here?”

“Does one need a reason to  _ be _ ?”

McCree frowned at the little man, who was still sporting a gentle smile.

“As I said before, I mean you no harm. I was called to this place by a great discord.”

McCree winced. Discord? Was this some kind of wacky witch hunter? Most the hunters in the area were dead, courtesy of one Witch of the Wilds. But it wasn’t unheard of for more to migrate this way, after all, Deadlock had come through here cause work was plenty and they could make the price as high as they wanted.

McCree casually let his hand fall to rest on his Peacekeeper, Genji’s hands also lingering closely to his own short sword.

“So tell me Zenyatta, what does this ‘discord’ entail?”

The man kept his serene smile, impervious to their threatening stances.

“Guilt.”

McCree stared blankly at the man. What?

“Anger. Grief. Anything that brings disquiet to a soul. This is the discord I seek out and set to tranquility.”

McCree looked to Genji, who seemed equally baffled.

“Hold on there, what?”

The man gently rose his hand to motion to Genji, “There is much pain and suffering in your soul. I wish to bring it back to tranquility.”

McCree was speechless for once. This guy was here for Genji’s issues. Well Genji definitely had some serious issues. As far as McCree was concerned, his family deserved any fate the demon had bestowed upon poor Genji. For some odd reason though, Genji was not ok with that despite being betrayed by those closest to him. Genji could be real love hate when it came to talking about his brother. He either remembered him fondly, or wanted to beat the living shit out of his brother’s corpse.

The door creaked open behind them. Both men whipped around to try to usher the witch back inside, but she defiantly slid past them.

“Mein Gott, what are you two -” she laid her eyes upon the stranger and suddenly shied away. She looked down and began fiddling with her skirt.

“Greetings.”   
Mercy offered out a quiet, “Hello.”

“Your friends treasure you dearly, I sense they have not released their weapons since my arrival.”

Mercy slapped both McCree and Genji’s hands upon hearing this, confidence fully restored and caution thrown to the wind.

“Don’t be rude! I rarely get any guests!” she hissed to them.

Zenyatta chuckled,”If that makes them feel more at ease, let them have their weapons. As I stated before, I am no threat to any of you.” he seemed to focus on Mercy, “Curious. There is no malice in your being, none of the darkness that usually mars mortal hearts…” He considered her some more, “Oh, I see. You are broken.”

Mercy’s eyes were wide as she stammered out, “How..?”

The little man motioned around him, “I see a great many things through the Iris.”

McCree was completely and utterly confused. He hated this magical mumbo jumbo.

Mercy jumped, “Oh my I’ve forgot my manners! I am Mercy, and I welcome you to my home. My companions here are Genji and Jesse -”

“McCree.” 

Mercy glared at her friend, “And Jesse.” She repeated while holding eye contact with her friend.

McCree said nothing this time.

“It is a pleasure to meet all of you Mercy, Genji, and Jesse.” McCree would have glared at the man had Mercy not been staring him down, “I am Zenyatta, I suppose I am a monk of sorts.”

Mercy looked back to Zenyatta and McCree shot his glare. She motioned to her home, “Would you like to come in for some food and tea?”

Excellent. She may poison the monk with her cooking.

“I humbly accept your offer, witch Mercy.” He put his hands together and gave her a slight bow. She took his hand and lead him inside.

Genji and McCree silently followed.

~~~~~~~~~

Genji was still on edge. The Monk, Zenyatta, had seemed earnest, but so had his brother before he had lead them both to the end of life as they knew it. So Genji kept ready.

He didn’t like how the Monk kept looking at him, looking through him with those sightless eyes.

Mercy had clearly noticed the young man was blind as she guided him to a seat, not leaving until he was safely seated.

McCree was leaning against a wall with a sour look upon his face. Genji took his seat next to the Monk.

He was unsure if he should warn the man. McCree seemed ready to let the little man suffer, but Genji feared the man may spit out the food (which was highly likely) or do something else that would make Mercy aware of her inability to cook. Genji didn’t want that. Mercy loved cooking, it would break her heart to know the truth. And worse yet, she may stop cooking, then Genji wouldn’t get to hear her hum and sing while she tried her best to make something nice for them. If she knew the truth, he wouldn’t get to see her whole being light up whenever he complimented her cooking. He couldn’t let that happen, he had to warn the Monk.

Mercy had set out three tea cups, McCree having forgoed tea for today, and made her way into the kitchen.

Genji made his move. He leaned in close to the Monk, “You will eat whatever she gives you and you will say NOTHING about the taste. If you make ANY faces or upset her in ANY way I will spill your guts all over the table. Are we clear?”

The Monk chuckled, “Of course I will eat what my host has offered. I’m sure it will be fine if she has made it with such affection.”

Well, at least Genji had tried to warn him. He drew his short sword under the table. If the Monk did anything wrong, Genji would remind him of his warning with a gentle stab.

Mercy reentered with a teapot in one hand and a plate with earlier’s monstrosity balanced on the other.

She set the plate down before Zenyatta and began pouring tea.

Genji’s sword was ready under the table, pressed against the cloth of the Monk’s robes, as Zenyatta took his first bite.

“Oh my!” Genji was ready to split the man open, but the Monk stood up and ran to Mercy, his next words shocking Genji, “This is divine! You must share with me the name of this masterpiece!”

So either the Monk was a really good actor, or he had no taste buds at all.

Mercy was shining brightly at the praise, and was saying something about the recipe, but Genji wasn’t really paying attention to that. No, instead he watched in silent horror as the Monk shoveled  _ more _ food in his mouth, then had the audacity to ask for MORE. Mercy took his plate back and with her disappearance Genji leaned back towards the Monk.

“I know I said you had to eat it, but don’t push yourself. If you die she will be just as hurt.”

“I can’t help it! I have never had anything so exquisite. The love and care put in that dish are beyond divine!”

Genji stared blankly, “... What?”

Mercy returned with more food, which Zenyatta happily devoured while Genji and McCree could only exchange shocked looks.

Upon clearing his second plate, Zenyatta sighed contently, “I must thank you for that most wonderful meal.”

“Thank you Zenyatta! So tell me, where are you headed next?”

“I go where there is discord and restore it to tranquility. In fact it was the discord in Genji’s heart that lead me here, a most happy occurrence for me.” He paused in thought for a moment as Mercy looked at Genji with a pained expression. He didn’t want her to be sad because of him. “If I may be so bold as to ask if I may come to visit here often, as you said your other friend does, so that I may try to help Genji find peace?”

Mercy shook her head vigorously, “Nonsense! You said you had no home in Aldersbrunn. You shall stay here until you see fit to move on. You can sleep in the loft with Genji!”

Genji was flabbergasted. Mercy was too kind for her own good. Sure the Monk wasn’t likely to kill her in her sleep, but one of these days she was going to invite a wolf into her home. Well technically she already had, but McCree didn’t count.

“Now, now…” McCree finally spoke up, “Not that I have any problem with this development, at all… I really don’t mind letting the Monk-”

“Zenyatta! His name is Zenyatta, Jesse.” Mercy quipped.

McCree took a breath again, “Sorry Merc’, I don’t mind letting Zenyatta stay with me in town. Besides the loft is mighty small for two people to share. Don’tcha think so too Genji?” McCree gave Genji a steady look. Message received. Don’t let the Monk stay.

“Nonsense. There should be plenty of room.” Mercy pouted. She turned her beautiful sapphire gaze upon Genji, “Well since you actually sleep up there, I’ll let you decide.”

Now both McCree and and Mercy’s eyes on him, with Zenyatta staring blankly at a wall. McCree looked at him with a stern expression, brown eyes viciously demanding he refuse Mercy. Clearly he didn’t trust the little man to be left alone with Mercy. Meanwhile Mercy’s gaze was soft, her blue eyes gentle, pleading. With the light behind her she looked every bit the angel she was and wasn’t. This woman was going to be the death of him.

“There’s enough room, I don’t mind sharing.”

Mercy ran up to him with her dazzling eyes gleaming, she wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. “Oh, thank you Genji!” The warmth radiating from her body was so comforting he could not find it in himself to regret his decision. His shining angel in witch’s clothing. She pulled away from him, still smiling. Her smile was so bright he failed to notice McCree’s glare, or Zenyatta’s knowing chuckle.

~~~~~~~~~~

McCree was none to pleased to be leaving Mercy’s cottage with the Monk still there. Sure he didn’t think the little fellow could do anything to hurt Mercy, especially with Genji there. But regardless, he didn’t trust the stranger. Zenyatta… why did that name sound familiar?

Forget that, he couldn’t  _ believe _ Genji. The guy was so serious and gloomy around him, but he melted whenever Mercy so much as looked at him. He should have known better than to try to get Genji to side with him against Mercy.

Initially, McCree hated leaving Genji alone with Mercy, which was reasonable considering he nearly slit her throat when he met her. Of course McCree had argued vehemently with Mercy regarding keeping Genji, but once Merc’ had made up her mind, there was no stopping her. 

McCree liked it even less when he started catching Genji staring at her a little too long for his liking, the guy was creepy silent and skilled with sharp things. It took McCree longer than he’d like to admit to realize that Genji may have found the witch attractive, and now that attraction was full blown hopelessness against her charms. Not that he could blame him, she was beautiful and kind and there was that whole saving his life and making him a body thing. Yeah, that small detail... 

Well whatever. They were kinda friends now.

McCree shook his head. He needed air. He needed to run wild for a bit.

He collapsed to all fours as he began to shift. Clothes replaced with fur, hands with humanoid paws with vicious claws. He would never really get used to the tail, but it was a small detail he could easily ignore when he could feel everything, smell everything. Of course he hated the shifting at first, it was mighty unnatural, but he came to love the convenience and the enhanced senses even when he retained his human form.

He ran and ran til he could smell the town. He let himself regain his human form, shedding his fur yet again for his skin and clothes. The townsfolk only seemed to tolerate him so long as they didn’t have to see the beast he was, but it didn’t bother him too much.

Transformation complete, he walked the rest of the way.

He came up to his own little home and kicked the door. The broken lock gave no resistance as the door swung open freely.

Home sweet home.

He nodded to the portrait of the previous residents, it seemed the respectful thing to do, since he was living in their home and all. Didn’t want to piss them off and invite a haunting now.

He collapsed on the couch. The sun was just starting to dip towards the horizon. Maybe he would go to Lena’s and get a drink. Maybe. After a nap.

Screaming aroused him what felt like minutes after he dozed off. Various screams of “The Reaper has come!” brought him to his senses.

Looks like someone was playing his song, all he needed was a partner.

The Gunslinger jumped up from his couch and burst out the door, checking his beloved Peacekeeper as he ran. Locked and loaded, he was ready to hunt. And this time, he wouldn’t be the one to lose a limb or two.

Panicked townspeople pointed him towards the castle. McCree whispered a small prayer that Rein was alright, he loved that big guy, he was a great storyteller and a fantastic drinking buddy.

He pushed on to the castle and peered through the doors. Yup. Definitely the Reaper, he’d recognize that wispy asshole anywhere. He caught sight of an injured man he didn’t quite recognize and old Jack Morrison. Great, now Hana was at risk of being an orphan. Couldn’t have that on his conscious. He couldn’t miss Reinhardt’s lumbering figure, which was currently shielding a much smaller hooded figure from shotgun fire. All of them seemed alive, but not in a good way.

The Gunslinger readied his ace in the hole. His Deadeye. He stepped out, but none seemed to notice his presence. Time seemed to slow for him as he focused in on his only foe. The Reaper cackled awfully, the defenders weak and spent.

His aim held true as he delivered a single fatal bullet to the wraith. All eyes were glued to the Reaper as they watched his mask clatter to the floor in a pile of smoke.

“Did somebody call the undertaker?”

All eyes were on him. The Gunslinger smiled as he pushed up his hat and holstered his Peacekeeper with a twirl.

“Howdy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sometimes she really, genuinely wondered how the Doctor had survived before he found her. The man would never sleep, never eat, or even take a break unless she made him. And in recent days, she had made him indeed. 

She held her warm mug close to her, her petite fingers wrapped firmly around the ceramic core. 

Her first week with him she had suffered a few heart attacks watching him pass out from exhaustion in very dangerous situations (falling asleep on his  _ active _ mine had been one of her minor grievances). It was like he had no general concern for his well being at all. He just wanted to work, and on occasion, blow something (and himself) up.

She looked at her own emptying cup. Maybe she should make him take a break. Yes, she should probably bring him some tea.

She fetched him a “clean” mug from the cupboards, she carefully tried to scrub off some excess grease and what she hoped wasn’t mold from the mug’s surface. She washed it and her hands just to be safe.

In minutes the kettle was boiling again and she poured the Doctor a fresh cup.

She carried it carefully as she approached him. He was hunched over his work table, as he often was, whispering his strange profanities to his work.

“Doctor?”

He mumbled some more of his nonsense she did not fully care to understand.

She tried again, a little louder, “Doctor?” still no movement. She lightly touched his shoulder with his free hand.

He jumped, knocking the thing he was working on, which Mei recognized as a grenade, off the table.

She panicked. She half released, half threw the cup and desperately dove for the explosive, it fell just past her fingertips, just a hair’s breadth away. This was it. This was how she died. In a strange lab with a strange, but kind man and no memories to her name.

She felt magic spark at her fingertips and ice shot forth, taking root on the stone floor and shooting straight up, catching the grenade where she had failed.

Her momentum carried her to the floor where she was face to face to the ice, she exhaled in relief. Thank goodness. She didn’t know how, but they were safe.

“No worries! I got the tea!”

Her anger bubbled as she peeled herself off the ground, the Doctor was laying back in his chair taking a tentative sip of the beverage, and finding it to his liking, downing some more.

“You make a good cuppa Mei.”

He gave her a thumbs up which she slapped away, “Jamison Junkenstein!” she boomed with all the meagar might her form could produce. “You dropped a bomb, Jamison, a  _ bomb _ ” she emphasized with leaning forward to glare at him better, he seemed stunned. Good. “And you! You prioritized catching tea over an explosive that could have killed us both?!”

He pouted and puffed up his chest, “T’was a dud anyway it wouldn’t have gone off. Besides, the tea is waaaay more important.” She stared at him in disbelief before he added, “Oh and don’t call me ‘Jamison Junkenstein’, yeah? Ya sound like you’re my mum.” He took another long sip of tea before putting the mug down carefully on the table.

“Doctor.” He looked away from her, crossing his now free arms. He was such a child sometimes. 

She inhaled deeply, “Jamison…” He stilled ignored her.

“Jamie…” finally he turned his head enough for her to peer into his amber irises and catch his soft smile. For a moment she forgot why she was mad at him, getting lost in the golden flecks in his eyes. They burned like fire, they seemed to melt through her. The thought of fire settled uncomfortably in her stomach, probably due to the fiery fate they had just both narrowly avoided. Oh yeah. Now she remembered.

“Look, I’m not mad, I’m just worried about you.” He rolled his eyes as he faced her. “We could have both died just then you do realize that?” His eyes began to wander. “You don’t seem to have any regard for --”

“Hooley dooley lookit that!” he pointed excitedly past her to the frozen grenade.

Mei gave her best glare, his childlike excitement seemed immune. “We will address that later. Doc-- Jamie, you really need to be more careful…” Jamison was on the floor now, poking the ice with his metallic hand. 

“You’ve already lost both an arm  _ and _ a leg...” he was now lightly tugging on the grenade, trying to set it free from its frozen prison. 

“And I would hate for you to lose more, or even worse your life…” he had dislodged the grenade and was now shaking it.

“ Nǐ zài gēn wǒ kāiwánxiào ma? Would you pay attention?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Look, Jamison couldn’t have cared less about dropping the bomb, yeah. It was a dud anyways so it probably wouldn’t have gone off. He was pretty sure that was the bomb he had chucked at a zomnic earlier, and to his disappointment, it did not go boom. 

And here Mei was, looking mad at him for no reason, no reason at all! Ok so maybe she was upset ‘cause she had gone ass over tit trying to catch the damn thing. That probably hurt. Well at least when she leaned forward to look angry at him she gave him a good view of her tits. Hard for him to listen to her when she’s giving him such a nice view.

She called him by his full name. He didn’t like that.

He frowned and turned his back to her, arms firmly crossed and his head held high. He did nothing wrong, not to mention he was a little sore she used his full name, here he was thinking they were mates. But it’s always “Doctor” this or “Mister Junkenstein” that.

He could hear her sigh behind him, “Jamison…” he would not give in. No matter how sweet and breathless she sounded he would not -- “Jamie…” Fuck, he was done for. Dead man right there. Donezo. He had imagined her calling his name like that, albeit in  _ very _ different scenarios, but his imagination had done her no justice. And hearing it come from the real thing. Damn it did things to a man.

He felt his arms go slack, his firm stance blown away by her soft voice. He cocked his head to the side and caught sight of her pleading eyes. Fuck. How could he stay mad at her when she looked at him like that. T’was not fair. He would blow up the world for her, should she only ask.

She started softly, “Look I’m not mad, I’m just worried about you…” He rolled his eyes. Ok so he could see how she might have panicked about the bomb… how could she have known it was a dud? Stupid thing. His eyes trailed down, only stopping momentarily on Mei, didn’t want her to catch him staring too much yeah, but his added height really helped him get away with it quite a bit. He scanned the floor for the damned thing and he found it settled atop a tiny pillar of ice.

Huh.

He couldn’t help it, “Hooley dooley lookit that!”

Mei looked briefly to it and turned back to him, her gaze even, “We will address that later.”

Fuck that. He was gonna address that now. He tuned Mei out, although it pained him to do so, he found the strength to do so with the knowledge that she was gonna be lecturing him. He brought himself down to the floor. The base of the pillar was thicker, jagged. He gave it a light tap. Solid. No signs of melting even though it was quite warm inside. Magic, prolly from Mei considering he could do fuck all. He turned his focus to the grenade, it looked pretty frozen itself. This needed further investigation. He gave the grenade a slight pull. Fucker wouldn’t budge. He gave it a firm yank and it broke free with a snap. Score one Jamison, magic ice zero. He pushed himself off the ground and sat cross legged, further examining the bomb, turning it around in his nimble fingers. It was perfectly intact on the outside. He gave it a little shake and heard something rattling about.

“ Nǐ zài gēn wǒ kāiwánxiào ma? Would you listen?!”

Oh right. Mei. Oh shit she looked pissed. Eh that could wait, she had to see this.

He jumped up from the ground, holding the explosive up to her face, “It’s frozen!”

Her glare made his blood run cold. She let out a deep sigh, which Jamison took as his permission to continue. He moved the grenade to his still flesh hand, it was cold, like holding a solid block of ice. He wanted to look inside. To see how far the magic had permeated. 

He rushed back to his workbench, leaving Mei hunched over the ice in her own examination. He knew she was curious.

He just needed to crack it open. Unfortunately ice had frozen closed the screws he needed to remove to open the thing. Looks like he was doing this the old fashioned way. He took a hammer to one of the seams, made a beautiful clang as it fell apart. He heard what he assumed was cursing in whatever language Mei was now profusely shouting at him.

The nade split perfectly along the seam, revealing the inner workings of the bomb littered with crystalline ice.

“Amazing… ‘Twent all the way through. Thing wouldn’t have gone off even if it was a live grenade.” he muttered to himself, kinda hoping Mei hear the last bit. He peeked over his shoulder to see her blink at him with those wide doe eyes. Yeah she heard him.

He turned to her with renewed excitement “You conjured ice Mei! Why didn’t ya tell me ya knew magicks?” She gave him a deadpan glare now. Right. Stupid question.

“Well try to make some more! Or break the shit on the floor. Either will do!”

She looked at the ice and to her open hands. “I don’t…” She seemed overwhelmed, almost kind of scared. Fuck he was doing that thing that made her feel nervous again.

Jamison clasped his hands around her own open hands, his hands dwarfing her own. She looked up to him, she was so unsure of herself. It had to be hard not knowing like she did, but she made it work. She was strong.

He gave her his best reassuring smile, “Don’t worry darl, ya will figure it out, you’re a smart lass.”

Her eyes searched his as he radiated confidence. He wouldn’t let her find cause for concern in his eyes.

She seemed to find herself in that moment, fear melting away, as she gave him a small smile.

  
  


Still buzzing with excitement of the discovery of Mei’s cryomancy, Jamison finished stitching up the belly of his beast. Oh it was beautiful and grotesque. He giggled at the thought of his behemoth tearing apart the town. Oh yes. That would teach them for laughing at him. For calling him crazy. HA.

He pulled his goggles over his eyes. Mei should long be asleep downstairs, his little lightshow shouldn’t wake her up, but he could only imagine her awe when she would awaken to see just what his brilliance has accomplished. Yes, Mei would love it, a sharp mind like hers would appreciate what he will have done. He will have created life!

He readied his machine to zap life into his creature. And with a smile he pulled the lever, sending blast after blast of lightning into his creature. He counted the pulses.

1…2… … 6… 7… 

He powered down his machine, excited to see his creature rise. But alas, his monster laid as still as the grave on the table.

He put his head to the chest cavity. Nothing.

Huh. Looks like he may have miscalculated a bit. Oh well it was only the first trial, there were bound to be some mistake. He paced back to his workspace, thinking out what went wrong. That heart should have at least started beating, but it hadn’t. He would have to modify it, or maybe it needed more power? Still the lack of movement was troubling. Maybe the brain hadn’t been kickstarted properly… perhaps the pulses needed to be applied to the brainstem as well as the heart. That could easily be fixed. Some metal plating here and a couple of screws there…

~~~~~~~~~

Mei awoke to flashing lights and the Doctor’s manic giggling. He tended to do that when he worked. Mei had heard it all. He would hum, giggle, laugh, he did it all. Snowball blinked awake beside her, issuing out some comforting tones. Had she been turning in her sleep again? She smiled as she pat her drone’s blurry figure with one hand as the other fumbled around for her glasses.

World made clear again, she sat up in her makeshift bed, which was just a metal table with a sheet pulled over it. The Doctor wasn’t really one for comfort, although he always tried his best to make her comfortable.

She looked down at her hands once more, they seemed so much colder now, without the Doctor holding them in his own. She felt cold. Like ice. She had created ice. She could use magic. Yet she didn’t feel very powerful.

Palms up, she wiggled her fingers pensively. Snowball flitted down into her open hands, making her smile yet again.

Jamie said he had found her in ice that melted when he touched it. In retrospect, they should have suspected magic from the start.

Her smile faltered. Was magic also responsible for why she could not remember anything?

Her chest felt heavy as this horrible sinking feeling washed over her. She struggled to breathe for a few moments, she could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

Snowball rammed itself against her head, the pain ending her momentary panic.

The moment passed and she could breathe again. She gave Snowball another pat while she listened to the Doctor lumber around the upper levels, humming to himself.

That’s right. She wasn’t alone. She had Jamie and Snowball. No matter what horrors the future held, they could face them together.

Her eyes felt heavy. It was time to go back to sleep.

  
  


_ Screaming. Shouting. Angry people with torches topped with hateful fire. They screamed for blood. She heard one lone voice cry out for reason, but the mob only grew more vicious as a chant began to spread among them. _

_ “Burn the witch!” _

_ They screamed it over and over again as a man dressed in black dragged a hooded figure in rags forward. The crowd spat at her and hit her as she was brought forward by chains. _

_ Once again a lone voice cried out “This is madness!” but the crowd still screamed for blood. _

_ The hood was removed to reveal the scared face of a young girl, dark rings under her panicked eyes. The man in black grabbed her by her hair. He was saying something to her, lost in the screams of the crowd. _

_ He motioned and the crowd parted ways, revealing a post with logs and kindling piled high around it. _

_ He dragged the girl to the post.  _

_ “Burn the witch!” _

_ He unfastened one of her cuffs in order to chain both hands behind the post. She was crying. _

_ “Burn the witch!” _

_ He held a silver cross to her. _

_ “Burn the witch!” _

_ He spoke more hollow words to her. _

_ “Burn the witch!” _

_ He raised a single hand to the crowd and a hush fell over them.  He motioned to one of the mob members who gave his torch to the man in black. Words done now, he dropped the torch at the base of the pyre and the flames began to engulf the base. _

_ The girl screamed as the fire licked at her feet. She screamed and screamed as the flames continued to engulf her. She screamed until she screamed no more. And with her silence the crowd cheered. _

_ Now they all looked back to Mei. Someone pulled her forward by heavy metal on her bruised wrists. The crowd still hungered for more, their mantra ready on their lips. _

_ Burn the witch. _

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sombra idley checked her nails as she listened to Akande try to reason with the Witch. He liked to  _ think _ he was in charge and that  _ he _ was the mastermind manipulating the Witch, but really he was no better than a puppet.

The Witch seemed very uninterested in what Doomfist had to say.

“There’s no point in attacking anywhere else you imbecile.” she stated her cutting words matter of factly. “It will be easy to wipe out the rest once I claim every soul in Aldersbrunn… I wonder what this Lord Wilhelm of Aldersbrunn is like… the last one I saw was an interesting man.”

“Yes, but before we target Aldersbrunn perhaps we could target some smaller less fortified--”

“No, no. I have already wasted enough effort in the past on your schemes. I shall waste no more. Now if you want to be  _ useful _ for once, why don’t you find  _ her _ ?”

Akande grimaced, “We have not been able to find any trace of her. It’s been years, she could be anywhere at this point.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have let her flee when you first separated us, your little power play there cost us dearly.” The Witch’s glare was fierce.

Akande was about to open his mouth again, but appeared to have decided against it. Smartest thing he’d done all night. Shame, Sombra was hoping to see him make a bigger ass out of himself.

The Witch waved him away, “Why don’t you go be useful and bring me some tea?”

Oh oh oh, Akande looked  _ furious _ .

“Oh, and while you’re out, go fetch my plaything.”

Through gritted teeth he managed to force out “Sombra.” and he motioned to her.

The Witch held up her hand again, “No no Akande, just you go. Have Sombra stay. It will be nice to talk to someone  _ intelligent _ for once.”

Akande clearly debated punching the Witch, clenching his massive fist. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard that even the enchanted wood cracked.

The Witch snorted, “If he wasn’t so useful as a meat shield, I would have already killed that imprudent fiend.” She sighed heavily, one of her pale hand coming to rest on her forehead as she slumped into a throne-like chair, “Why are the only competent beings I have here the Summoner and yourself?”

Sombra chuckled, “Well the Summoner doesn’t talk much and I know better than to irritate you.”

The Witch smiled wickedly, “And  _ that _ is why I like you best Sombra.” She slung her legs over the armrest of the chair in one graceful motion. “You have no problems antagonizing those other idiots who think themselves my master. But you know who really has all the power.”

Sombra couldn’t help the smile that crept on her face, “But of course, my Lady.”

The door quietly opened to a lithe woman with pale purple-blue skin and long dark hair cascading down her back, in her delicate fingers she held a tray with tea.

A sadistic smile crossed the Witch’s soft features. How Sombra would hate to be the focus of that particular look.

“Oh he sent my favorite plaything, with tea no less!”

Sombra chuckled, “Maybe he’s not as stupid as I thought.”

“No, he is.” The Witch interjected as she waved forth the Widow.

The Widow dutifully served the Witch her tea, which the Witch ignored in favor of grabbing the Widow’s outstretched arm. She didn’t even flinch.

“How are you feeling today bitch?” the Widow didn’t even blink as the Witch spat out her venomous words, with each word she tightened her grip and dug her nails into the Widow’s lifeless flesh.

“I do not feel, mistress.” The Widow’s soft, accented voice was steady and clear in the face of the Witch’s wrath.

The Witch’s nails went in deeper, “Oh, really? I always forget. Perhaps we should test it out again?”

The Widow’s golden eyes betrayed no emotion as they met with the Witch’s hungry gaze.

“If that is what you want.”

The Witch released her hold on her arm in favor of grabbing her hair, yanking her down to her level.

“Oh come now, there must be something still left in you. Some part of you that hates me. Something in there that is still alive.”

The Widow’s gaze never faltered.

“Would you like me to go fetch some knives?”

The Witch nodded and pushed the Widow away, who gracefully sauntered out the room.

“She’s no fun anymore.” The Witch pouted.

Sombra could only nod as she recalled the atrocities the Witch committed to body and soul of Amelie LaCroix to have made her into the lifeless Widow. The Widow was a true representation of the Witch’s cruelty, and Sombra was glad that she had not been on the receiving end, especially considering the part she had played.

The Witch sighed, “I wonder when the demon man will come back. I liked him. He was strong. Just about killed Doomfist too, that’s a plus. And those dragons would be so useful in culling the town.”

Sombra nodded, “True he  _ could _ help, but we don’t need him, not really, because we have  _ you _ .” Sombra was good at this. Telling the Witch the things she wanted to hear. “And once you’re a little more whole, the humans won’t stand a chance and all will fall before you begging to serve you.”

The Witch hummed, “I know you’re right Sombra, but because of that moron’s mistake, I may yet never be whole again. And my beloved Reaper alone won’t be able to gather enough souls for me…”

Well, now was as good of time as any to play this card, “Well… I know of someone who hates Aldersbrunn, and he has the means of making you an army.”

“Oh?” the Witch perked up in her throne.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on him, he’s not ready to make a deal yet, but he’s getting there. Just need to apply the right pressure.”

“What does he want?” The Witch’s blue eyes shone with malevolent curiosity.

Sombra gave a dramatic pause, which she felt was completely necessary, “To create life.”

The Witch cackled, the Widow returned with a tray of blades, which she bowed and presented to the Witch.

Still chuckling she selected a long jagged knife and began dragging it over the Widow’s skin, before sharply thrusting it in her ribs.

The Widow let out a single cough as blood began to trickle from her mouth and blood spread from her wound, dying the purple cloth of her dress black. The Witch twisted the blade and with a sick cracking noise Sombra was sure she had broken the poor girl’s ribs again. But the thing that was once Amelie LaCroix didn’t move.

“Do keep me up to date, won’t you Sombra?” She pulled the blade out in a smooth and practiced motion.

“Of course, amiga.”

Sombra to her cue and faded to another room, giving the Witch some privacy.

After all, she  _ hated _ being interrupted when she was playing.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the angry chinese is stuff I found on google. It's supposed to mean "Are you kidding me?"  
> If it don't mean that... whoopsies. I don't speak chinese and I only know enough Australian slang to get by thanks to my ozzie parents.  
> also, I've already got the ending planned out and I told my bestie/beta reader and she was like DAMN. So yeah. The ending is gonna be good stuff hopefully.  
> Thanks for reading yall.


	4. Awake from the Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo meets the fabled McCree (the start of some McHanzo SPICE)  
> Genji works on finding inner peace.  
> Mei deals with stuff. Mei also makes good bad decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. My time management skills are shit. Plot is gonna pick up and these poor children are gonna suffer.  
> So I realized... I love Amelie. Like she is my favorite character. Do any of yall know why the Witch HATES her and dotes on the Reaper?  
> In other news, one of my Dungeons and Dragons characters died and I AM SHOOK. Rest in Peace Lady Elise Regalia Von Eisenbern.  
> You glared at a beholder, and it glared back. Now you are ash and our party lost its only healer who also doubled as our tank. You will be mourned.

 

Mei awoke with a start, her heart hammering in her chest. She struggled to breathe as no matter how much air she desperately sucked in, she could get no oxygen. Her eyes, though open could see nothing. Just darkness. The smoke. They were going to-

She never hurt  _ anyone _ . She didn’t even know. Not until  _ HE _ came. He wouldn’t let her escape. He was coming for her. He was coming for her. He was coming for her.

“Mei! Mei! Deep breaths darl. No one’s gonna hurt ya here.” A warm hand settled on her back, trying to soothe her trembling.

The dark haze lifted enough for her to make out Jamie’s blurry white locks in the faint glow of the lab and even without her glasses, she could see the worry plain on his face.

Frozen droplets pricked at the corners of her eyes as more tears flowed freely on her already damp cheeks. Her heartbeat was so heavy in her chest, she felt like she was going to be sick. She tried to swallow. Her throat hurt so much, dry and sore.

She wiped away her frosty tears as she sorted her thoughts. It was only a dream. She grabbed her glasses and put them on, letting clarity take her with her enhanced vision. She let her heart slow as she took a few more deep steady breaths with Jamie’s flesh hand gently rubbing her back.

“You alright now?”

She nodded.

“So do ya wanna clue me in whys you was screamin’ like a fucking banshee?”

She tried to speak, but her voice was weak and her throat was sore. Jamison picked her up like she weighed nothing. She worried about him falling, given his uneven gait, but he hobbled to the dining area with ease and he pulled out a glass bottle, filled with water.

She accepted it and began downing the liquid, quickly consuming a fair portion of the liquid before she had to stop to catch her breath. She panted, but took her next sips more slowly, acutely aware of Jamie watching her with knowing concerned eyes.

“Ya wanna talk about it?”

“I- It was just a dream… I think. But it felt so real, and so wrong. It was me, but I wasn’t me. And they were going to-” she choked on her next words.

Jamie grabbed her hand, “You don’t have to think about it if ya don’t want to.”

Mei shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut to fight the tears that were threatening to start up again. It took everything she had to force her words out into the tiniest whisper, “They were going to  _ burn _ me.”

Jamie looked troubled by her words, but her gave her a reassuring smile she could see through easily, he was really bad at hiding his emotions. “It was just a dream. Ain’t no one gonna touch you so long as yer with me.”

Mei forced her own smile, he was always so considerate with her. He was prone to breaking things, it came with his destructive nature… but with her, he was so soft, so sweet.

“It felt so real. I could smell the smoke and the charred flesh of the girl before me, I could feel the pain in my wrists as they dragged me forward… Jamie… what if this actually happened to me?”

He was quiet for a minute. She could see him thinking, he normally just blurt out whatever popped in his head, but he seemed to consider her words.

“Suppose ‘s possible, but  _ if _ it did happen, you  _ escaped _ . You got away and you’re safe now. And those rat bastards will never get you cause you’re with me now. I’ll kill ‘em b’fore they get the fucking chance.”

She smiled up at his brazen threat, and despite her opposition to violence, his words made her happy.

“Now then, let’s get you back to bed. Think I might get a bit of shuteye meself.”

He lead her back to her labtable. “You really need to get beds.”

“No worries, it's on the top my list. First one I get’s gunna be yers.”

“You need to sleep too Jamie.” She carefully placed her glasses aside as she carefully nestled into her pile of blankets.

Jamie collapsed on the floor in an unceremonious pile of gangly limbs, and he tossed a bit trying to get comfy. Mei rolled her eyes and patted the table next to her. His hazy form sat up, and even in the dim lighting with her blurred vision, she could see his golden eyes locked on her. She smiled at him, patted the free space again, then rolled over to go back to sleep.

Silence followed. Perhaps she made him uncomfortable? Then she heard him move again and finally thump down on the table behind her, shaking the whole thing. He stretched behind her, she could feel his warm breath ghosting the back of her neck as she lulled off into a peaceful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stared at the back of her head as her breathing evened out. He wasn’t trying to be creepy… it’s just… he was worried about her.

Mei had magicks. She dreamed of people trying to burn her… Things like that had died out nowadays. People learned that some were just born with magick in them, none of the old holy nonsense that used to go around.

But it wasn’t unheard of. The most recent burning of a wielder of magick that he could recall happened decades ago… then again, who knows how old Mei is… her ice preserved her perfectly. She could have been old enough to be his nanna. She could have been old enough to have been in a time when magick was just starting to seep in the world and those gifted with it… he didn’t like to think of Mei, tiny and afraid, being put on a pyre to burn for something she had no control over.

She sighed in her sleep, pulling the blankets further over herself. Did she even get cold? Why’d she need blankets anyhow. Maybe it’s just something ingrained in her.

He really needed to get a proper fucking bed for her. No wonder she’s have nightmares, she’s sleeping on a fucking table. He was gonna get her a bed. A big one. A comfy one. Maybe one she’d share with him.

Fuck he needed to get ahold of himself.

Her slumbering form seemed to sense his thoughts, she pushed herself further into his warmth, her plush behind making agonizingly beautiful contact with his growing arousal.

He stifled a groan. Fuck he was done for. If he moved, he could disturb her or scare her and she could wake up and see his problem and she might be mad or freaked out or disgusted.

She was peaceful, she was happy. Most importantly, she was asleep.

He was just gonna have to tough this one out. He’d have a wank later, for now he was gonna try to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a lot to impress Hanzo. He was a man of class and standard, a cut above the rest.

It pained every fiber of his being, but he had to admit… this play-pretender cowboy- no this absolutely fantastical  _ moron _ \-- had indeed left quite the impression on the archer.

Said moron sauntered up to the injured warriors, surveying them with watchful eyes.

“Y’all alright?”

He even  _ sounded _ stupid.

Ana peeked out from behind Reinhardt’s lumbering form, miraculously unharmed. Hanzo felt less anxious seeing the old Alchemist uninjured, and less pleased with her immediately going up to the imbecile in the ridiculous hat.

“We will be dear, thank you.”

She waved Hanzo over, irately he recalled his shortcomings in the fight, even allowing himself to be injured.

He stalked over to her, where the Soldier was collapsing with a heavy sigh, “Not going to lie McCree, I’ve never been so happy to see your ugly mug.”

“Yes, yes! Thank you McCree!” the giant lord seemed energetic despite his current state. He attempted to rush the fabled McCree, most certainly to break every bone in the man’s body with one of his enthusiastic embraces. Ana, however, had other plans as she stepped in front of the giant before he could take his third step. She most certainly had fixed him with one of her stern one-eyed stares, and the mighty Lord looked sheepish by this woman not even half his size.

The man chuckled, “Yeah you should sit tight big guy. Let Jack fix you up.”

Hanzo, now uncomfortably close to the other two injured men, watched Ana seize a potion from her belt and smash it in the middle of the three, relieving their pain and sealing their wounds.

The Gunslinger frowned at the yellow cloud, a detail not missed by Ana’s watchful eye.

“You do not trust my alchemy, do you?”

He shifted uncomfortably, stupid metal pieces on his ridiculous shoes making noise with the movement. “All due respect, witchcraft and magic potions are no match for a good six shooter.” He patted his holstered firearm, as if making a point.

Ana merely shrugged. Hanzo still struggled with the idea that this man was an actual functioning human being.

“So who are the new guys?”

Reinhardt, up off the floor in mere seconds, hoisted Ana atop his shoulder, which greatly displeased Hanzo as he chose to direct his glare to the giant instead of the idiot.

“This is Ana! She is an old friend!”

McCree stared at her with a discerning eye, “Ana… Amari? As in Pharah’s dead mom?”

Reinhardt nodded excitedly, while Ana sat gracefully on his shoulder, unbothered by his erratic movements.

“Well now I see where Pharah got her good looks from.” The imbecile sent a wink to the old Alchemist. She had the giant lower her.

“Watch it cowboy…” Jack quietly added, “She got her good aim from her mother too.”

The Gunslinger grinned at the Soldier’s words, then turning his brown eyes on Hanzo, “And this is?”

Hanzo did not like how this buffoon seemed to look him up and down.

“Hanzo.”

The Gunslinger seemed to ponder something, but ultimately dismissed the thought. “Well then. The name’s McCree and it was a pleasure-” he bowed his head and tipped his stupid hat with the most irritating shit eating grin, “-saving your sorry hides.”

Hanzo felt the strong urge to punch the man in the face, and he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t his demon’s doing.

McCree seemed impervious to Hanzo and Jack’s matching glares, “Well now, this be thirsty work, and I don’t know about yall, but I need a drink.” he paused as his curious gaze fell on Hanzo again and he once again took up an expression akin to thinking, “What d’ya say? First round’s on me.”

Hanzo considered his options. On one hand, he really, really didn’t want to deal with the chatty barmaid AND the idiot cowboy; however, he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t interested in learning about the man. He was an oddity, and quite good with his firearm.

Before Hanzo could give his answer, Ana piped in, “We would love to accompany you.”

Not missing a beat, McCree sauntered up to the old Alchemist and offered her his arm. She took it with a fond smile, “Oh? Aren’t you quite the charmer! I think I rather like you, young man.” Ana was probably the only person who did. The Gunslinger, with Ana on his arm, started guiding her towards the mighty doors. Ana turned her head over her shoulder calling, “Come along Archer!”

Hanzo followed with a huff.

 

Hanzo was extremely displeased to be forced to endure the barmaid’s presence for the second time that day. She waved excitedly to the trio when they entered her quaint tavern.

“Drinks on me tonight lads, anything for you lot for sticking to Mister Spooky!”

McCree shrugged, “Looks like I owe you fine folks a drink on another night, Lena’s awful insistent, I know from experience.”

She prattled as she started pouring shots of whiskey, “So did you give him the what for?”

“Damn straight I did.” She passed him the first shot, which he knocked back and slammed the empty glass back on the counter for her to refill. “It felt nice to pay him back for my arm. Shame he won’t stay dead long.”

“Rubbish! He’ll think twice before he tries that again. Now then, tell me what happened, and don’t skip any of the details!”

“I only arrived at the end darlin, you’ll have to ask our friends her for the full story, ending with me being one helluva bad ass mother fucker.”

“We fought. He killed him. The end.” Hanzo grumbled before downing his own glass. He was going to need the alcohol if he was going to deal with his present company.

Ana sighed next to him, pushing her own glass to Hanzo, “You have a certain flair for storytelling…”

Lena laughed, loud and annoying. “It’s cute. Short and sweet! Right Jesse?”

“Yup.” Hanzo was most certainly not  _ cute _ . The McCree man stared too intently at his face for Hanzo’s liking. It made him… surprisingly self conscious. Then the man’s eyes darted downward. An oddity that one.

The barmaid let out a loud dramatic sigh, “I don’t know how ya do it…. Always having someone out there gunning for ya.”

McCree tore his eyes away from Hanzo to let out a hearty laugh, “I learn to keep on my toes.” Hanzo nodded in agreement, sipping away at Ana’s glass as the cowboy continued. “Ya know, this is the  _ second _ time today that someone has tried to kill me. Little do they know, all they need to make me fall is someone as drop dead gorgeous as our Archer here.”

Hanzo nearly choked on the cheap swill he was consuming as Ana chuckled and Lena snorted. His back straightened as he willed the furious heat on his cheeks to dissipate. He glared at the Gunslinger, leaning casually on the counter, a playful glint in his warm amber eyes and a wolfish grin. Hanzo had never been so unaware of a predator in his midst.

Scathing, Hanzo spat out, “ _ Baka wa shinanakya naoranai. _ ”

Ana seemed to chuckle at his response, while the other two blinked expectantly at him.

McCree and Lena kept exchanging looks, the quietest the two had been, yet their wordless conversation still irked every fiber of Hanzo’s being. 

McCree caved first, “Alright, I’ll bite. What did that mean?”

Hanzo elected to simply glare at the man. He would not indulge this moron.

Ana’s clear voice called out from beside Hanzo, “ _ Unless an idiot dies, he won’t be cured. _ ” Hanzo could hear the smile in her voice. Hanzo schooled his features to not betray his surprise. Ana seemed to only continue to impress him while the dopey Gunslinger did the exact opposite.

Said dopey Gunslinger blinked owlishly at the two as if they had suddenly sprouted a new head. 

The barmaid howled with laughter, “Oi! McCree!” she reached across the counter to give him a firm slap to wake him from his stupor, “Do you need some cold water for that burn?”

The Gunslinger rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh hand as he replied sheepishly, “Lena, I don’t even think the doc who gave me my arm could patch me up.” Lena nodded as she decided to refill their glasses.

The Gunslinger downed his second one and his lax features hardened. “But in all seriousness, Archer…” He paused while Hanzo held his firm stare, only the slightest hint of a smile slowly creeping on his features, “You make my heart…  _ quiver. _ ”.

Hanzo was going to kill him.

The idiot’s smile only grew as Lena giggled, plying the man with even more alcohol. Hanzo’s glare dropped the temperature in the room a few degrees.

“Sorry if that was two  _ far fletched _ for ya. Ya see, it’s the  _ drawback _ of my charm. Let me get to the  _ point _ … I know it’s a bit of a  _ long shot _ but--” 

Ana held up her hand, silencing the fool mid ramble, “That’s more than enough dear.”

To Hanzo’s surprise, Lena chimed in, “I think I’m gonna have to agree. You’re banned from my bar if you keep that up.”

McCree shrugged as he lifted up his empty glass, “Sorry, it was worth a  _ shot _ .”

In all seriousness, the barmaid pointed to the door, “Get the fuck out of my bar.” Good riddance. McCree did not move, he merely quirked an eyebrow expectantly as a grin crept on the girl’s face, “Besides, you’re not going to  _ pierce _ anyone through the heart with sad puns like that.”

Hanzo scowled as Ana shook her head with a tired matronly smile.

McCree leaned forward and stage whispered, “D’ya really think I  _ missed my mark _ ?”

“I’m leaving.” Hanzo stood up abruptly. He was very done with this foolishness.

“Wait, wait, wait!” The cowboy floundered to him to grab his shoulder, “Where are y’all gonna stay? Cause I got plenty of room at my place if you need a spot to hang your hat.”

“Fareeha is letting her old mother stay with her.”

Hanzo remained quiet. Technically he didn’t have a place to stay… but sleeping in a tree sounded very tempting compared to the Gunslinger’s offer.

He gave up with a sigh, “I may have to take you up on that, Gunslinger.”

The man beamed with a proud smile, “Come on then, I’ll show you the way! See ya tomorrow Lena!”

“See ya!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

McCree just couldn’t put it together. He was  _ sure _ he’d met the Archer before. He just looked so damn  _ familiar _ .

A thought crossed his mind as he got to the door. He turned his head to look at Hanzo, trying his best not to linger on his bare chest. It did get mighty cold at night…

He shrugged off his favorite serape, “Here.”

The archer turned his critical glare to McCree. Damn that fella was intense. McCree’s eyes subconsciously drifted away from the harsh gaze, back toward the exposed flesh. “To keep you warm. It gets mighty nipple out at night.”

The Archer shoved past him with yet another scowl, as Lena giggled at something from behind. “I’ll be fine  _ fool _ . Worry about yourself.”

“Well hey now, ya don’t even know the way!” McCree quickly wrapped himself in his serape again as he tried to rush past the Archer to escort the man to his home.

“So… Where you from Archer?”

The man stoically walked behind him, giving him no answer.

“Well I’ve met a couple fellas from the Orient myself, a Japanese fella and a little monk who I’m pretty sure is Oriental, but I didn’t really ask… Should probably do that next time I see him. Then there’s also Jack’s daughter, Hana. Sweet girl, so long as you don’t cross her.”

The Archer still only left him with silence. Damn he was gonna be a tough nut to crack. It wouldn’t kill the guy to engage in some friendly conversation would it?

“Now me, I migrated from the States. America wasn’t really my speed. I was actually pretty surprised to see another American in this town…” Still no response. “Jack’s a good man. A helluva soldier too. I think he can be a bit too hard on Hana sometimes, but she’s a spirited kid. I honestly wonder how he does it sometimes… Especially with Hana trying to give him a heart attack all the time. The kid’s got a knack for trouble. Lucio can only do so much to keep her wild behavior in check.”

They were just reaching the edge of town. McCree wondered if his place was too messy. Shit they were almost there.

“So uh… when we get to my place. Feel free to make yourself at home. I typically just kick my feet up and relax wherever, so please don’t hesitate to do the same. Well, as they say down south,  _ mi casa es su casa _ .”

With that he pushed open the door of his quaint cabin.

The Archer looked around with an appraising glare. That guy just liked to judge everything. McCree was glad to see his place wasn’t too messy.

The man’s stern gaze fell on the portrait of the home’s previous residents. “Who are they?”

McCree stared at the painting the beautiful dark haired woman, poised with the utmost beauty and grace, bright eyes and a content smile leaning against her equally as handsome husband and his precise moustache.

“They… they used to live here.”

The Archer narrowed his eyes. “Where are they now?”

McCree shifted uncomfortably. “Well the gentleman is most certainly dead, and the wife probably is, but they never found her body.”

The Archer snorted. “It is likely she killed him and fled.”

“That’s not what the townsfolk seem to think.”

“Oh? And what  _ do _ they think?”

“Well Jack thinks they were the Witch of the Wild’s first kill.”

“I see.” Hanzo stared back at the picture with his same firm silence.

“I like to keep the picture up, seems the right thing to do… but if it bothers you I can move it to the bedroom…”

“That will not be necessary.” Hanzo clasped his hands together and gave a small bow to portrait, “Thank you for allowing me passage in your home.” McCree was quite pleased with the knowledge that Hanzo was not thanking him for it.

He pulled out a cigar with a fond smile. Maybe the Archer wasn’t quite so cold as he tried to seem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fully healed again, the Widow made her usual rounds. She was quite different from the hordes of undead that her Mistress brought back.

She was more than just an animated corpse. She was more akin to the Reaper, she could think, make her own decisions and her flesh wasn’t in a constant state of decay. She was, in a sense,  _ alive _ . Her heart beated, albeit slowly, and she was even capable of feeling pain, even if it didn’t bother her.

If her soul hadn’t been stripped of everything that made it a soul, she might have claimed she had that, but no. Her soul was now hollow, an empty container incapable of feeling, incapable of caring. 

So yes, she had a soul. It just was broken and empty. Like her. Here she was: a ghost of a person trapped in her own shell. There was nothing left of who she once was.

She used to weep for Gerald, but now when she thought of him she felt nothing.

A dark form passed in front of her. The Reaper. She and were the same, save that the Witch left enough of the man he once was behind to give her Reaper some personality, the Witch was rather fond of his malice.

“Hey.” He greeted her. He was the only one who did that. It was unnecessary. She was just a doll to be broken over and over again.

“ _ Bonjour _ . Have you recovered?”

“Our Lady had to resurrect me.”

“That bad? I did not realize you were getting so careless.”

He let out an aggravated snort, “They got lucky. Reinhardt and _ the Soldier _ were being assisted by our friend the Archer and a one eyed Alchemist…”

“Impossible.”

“And yet, Ana Amari lives.”

“Our Lady will be displeased with this.”

He let out a dark chuckle, she forgot what it felt like to  _ really _ laugh. “You were still in the process of your… transformation… That said, our Lady is bound to be angry.”

“So you were felled by the Alchemist then?”

He looked away from her, crossing his arms and leaning his massive frame on a pillar. “No. That brat Gunslinger was still slinking around. He got a good shot in.”

“A shame you let him escape Gabe.” Sombra emerged from the shadows, smiling wickedly as she did when she heard something that interested her.

“I was enjoying the  _ entertainment _ .” The Reaper sounded displeased. He did not like being addressed by his former name. Meanwhile, the Widow could not care.

“Do you need something Sombra?” It was her duty to serve those who worked under her Mistress.

Sombra’s lips continued its wicked smile, “Nah! I just wanted to hang with my besties Ami and Gabe.”

“We are  **not** your friends.”

“You keep telling yourself that Gabe.”

The Widow elected simply to not respond.

“Sooooooo…” She drew out her words twirling the purple ends of her dark hair, “What are we doing today friends?”

“I still must attend to the Summoner before my presence will be needed by our Lady.”

“Oh for sure! Ya know what? I’ll go with you amiga! I don’t get to talk to the Summoner often.”

Reaper backed into the shadows, presumably to inform their Mistress of the Widow’s past failure.

She tried to feel something, anything, but she couldn’t. No disappointment at her failure, no happiness that an old friend was alive, nothing. If she still felt something, her Mistress would have something to torture, a piece of the girl the Widow once was to kill over and over again, and the Widow could still have a piece of herself, to hold tight and feel truly alive. But alas, her Mistress would be even more upset and the Widow was incapable of caring about it.

She knocked on the Summoner’s door. 

“Come in.”

The Summoner was lounging boredly on a molten couch.

“ _ Yonda _ !”

The Summoner gave Sombra no acknowledgement as the Widow prepared tea for the Summoner, pouring her a cup of exotic tea that the Widow herself had acquired for her.

“Will you need anything else Lady Summoner?” She asked as she set down the teapot and a full cup before the dragoness.

“No, no. That will be all. Thank you.” The Summoner waved her away. The Widow bowed.

“I will be back to pick up the tray as soon as I can.”

The Summoner gave no response as she flexed her molten talons with something akin to disgust as she eyed Sombra with her fiery gaze.

The Widow had almost stepped out the door when the Summoner’s firm voice stopped her. “Do you hate her for what she has done to you?”

“You know I do not feel anything. I am incapable of it.”

“Well I hate  _ her _ .” Golden eyes burned fiercely on Sombra, who blew a kiss in the Summoner’s direction.

“ _ Te amo tambien Satya _ .”

“Get out _ Corrupter _ !” She hissed.

“Yeesh! You still mad at me? Look I said I’m sorry! Our Lady has forgiven me and Ami has forgiven me… so why can’t you?”

The Summoner continued to glare daggers at Sombra, the temperature in the room rising with the woman’s fury as her molten creations turned their fiery eyes upon Sombra.

“I am not so easily corrupted and I know your true nature. Now get out. I may serve, but I  **will not** tolerate your presence.”

Sombra faded away and the Summoner turned to the Widow one last time.

“You should hate her.”

The Widow gave another bow before closing the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the edge of his vision, Genji watched Mercy’s even breaths as she slept. She nuzzled into her pillow, mere inches from Genji’s unmasked face.

Below, the Monk snored softly, he had easily fell asleep after his rather exciting day. After McCree had left, Mercy had shown Zenyatta around her cottage. She feared that he would fall climbing the ladder to the loft he was supposed to share with Genji, so she  _ insisted _ that Zenyatta sleep in her bed for the night.

So that was how he found himself on his back, trying to keep his gaze locked on the ceiling, as his kindly witch snuggled closer and closer, seeking his warmth.

Genji couldn’t sleep. Not when he was this worked up. His dragon was restless. Something was amiss earlier and Soba would not calm down. He felt Soba stir under his skin, and even felt his movement in the parts of him that were no longer flesh. It was odd. He was still him, yet not himself. 

He turned his back to her, he felt guilty. His witch had done everything she could for him, and for that he was beyond grateful, but he couldn’t help but miss the man he once was.

He felt Mercy shift. His breath caught in his throat as he felt her forehead press into his back. After a breathless moment, he gathered his courage to face her.

She was the very image of beauty. Flawless porcelain skin, soft pink lips curled in a gentle smile, wisps of golden hair framing her soft face, long lashes that fluttered slightly as she dreamed… 

She was his angel.

She was a hair’s breadth away. He wanted to touch her. He reached out, fingers holding mere millimeters away from her cheek. She shifted again and some of her golden halo fell across her face, making her nose twitch. He indulged his desires, letting himself push her golden locks back, his touch lingering on her longer than needed.

She sighed contently. Genji felt his eyes flutter close as he craned his neck so that his forehead touched hers… he could feel her soft breaths on his scarred lips.

She was his angel. And here, lying next to her, this was heaven.

 

He tried to focus on Zenyatta, but his mind kept wandering back to last night… If the Monk noticed his lack of attention, he gave no inclination of it as he continued his prattle on peace and tranquility.

“So tell me Genji, what is on your mind?”

Kuso. “My brother.” A reasonable lie at least.

The Monk cocked his head, “So thinking of your brother elicited such longing sighs?”

Genji grew furious, “I only sigh because I regret it was the monster and not me who ended him! My brother  _ betrayed _ me. He made me a monster! I only wish he still lived so I may kill him myself. My soul seeks a vengeance it will never have.”

Zenyatta sighed and shook his head, “Oh Genji. Revenge is not justice.”

“It would make me feel better.”

“No, no it wouldn’t. In anger, you defeat only yourself.”

Genji was rapidly learning that Zenyatta was full of  _ those _ kind of sayings.

A beat of silence passed between the pair, “I find it curious that you call yourself a monster, for I only sense a man.”

Genji snorted, “If you could see me you wouldn't say that.”

“But I can  _ see _ you. True self is without form. Whatever form you may be now, is not who you are.”

Genji didn’t answer. He tolerated Zenyatta. That did not mean he liked him.

“I don’t think you a monster. Neither do your friends Mercy and McCree. How do you think they would feel if you told them your distaste for your appearance?”

Genji opted to inspect his blade at this point. He admired the keen edge. 

He hated to admit it, but the Monk most certainly had a point. If Mercy knew how unhappy he was with what he was, it would break her heart. She had already done so much for him. He was thankful for the second chance at life she had given him, and he chose to project his resentment for his situation of his brother. It was his fault after all. But his brother had already paid the price for his sin. So Genji had only himself left to hate. He was no longer a man. He was a monster, kept alive by magic and science he couldn't hope to understand.

Sightless eyes bored through Genji, it made him uncomfortable, being stared at… even though he knew those eyes couldn’t see. Perhaps it was worse because Zenyatta couldn't see, which made him see more than just his mangled body, he also could see his mangled soul. It was like every one of Genji’s insecurities and weaknesses were laid bare before those hollow eyes.

“ _ Waga kokoro wa oni no kokoro… _ ”

“Do not be discouraged Genji, everyone begins in ignorance. To know yourself is to be at peace. I aspire to help you walk along the path to enlightenment.”

Genji’s throat clenched, “But can I?”

“Of course. Free your mind Genji. The journey of a thousand miles begins with but a single step.”

Genji bit back his next words, holding in his pain, the Monk’s words inspired hope in him. Hope he hadn’t felt since long before he had followed his brother to his death.

“If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are headed.”

“ _ Hitoshirezu kami no yurushi o machi shima ni, kokora tsure naki yo o sugusu ka na. _ ”

“Embrace tranquility.”

Warmth and light seemed to engulf Genji from within. And the flicker of hope in him grew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

McCree was getting used to living with Hanzo. At first, it bothered him that the man would be up before the crack of dawn and would meander throughout the cabin or go outside and do whatever it was he did until the normal folk of the world woke up.

McCree stretched on the couch. He could hear Hanzo’s steady breaths on the roof of the cabin. The guy was like a spider, climbed right up the wall like it was the natural thing to do.

He adjusted his hat, and strolled into the kitchen. He didn’t have that much food left. He would have to go shopping. Oh and he’d need to get some stuff for Mercy, Genji, and Zenyatta.

He actually liked the little Monk now. He was very relaxing and better yet, he could get Genji to stop hacking up defenseless foliage with his sword. Now when Genji wasn’t happy, he  _ meditated _ . McCree was just pleased that he was finally dealing with all his emotions and shit like a normal human being. It had only been a matter of time before the ticking time bomb that was Genji’s emotions finally went off and hurt sweet Mercy. With Zenyatta there, doing whatever the hell he was doing, chances were Genji wouldn’t blow.

He grabbed a tomato, just starting to look a little  _ too _ ripe. He took a bite, yeah it was close to being rotten. He ate it regardless. Over-ripened fruit was  _ hardly _ the worst thing he had eaten.

He strolled outside, his meal still in hand, “Hey Han! I’m going shopping, want anything?”

The Archer narrowed his eyes on the Gunslinger, as cold and calculating as usual.

“I will accompany you.” Hanzo jumped off the roof with ease and he stalked towards McCree.

“Ya can stay here and do whatever it is you were doing up there, I can handle it.”

“And risk you bringing back nothing but slabs of raw meat and whiskey? I think not.”

“Well hey now,” McCree pointed with his tomato, “First of all, ain’t nothing wrong with my diet. Second of all, I don’t just get meat and whiskey.”

“I have been told otherwise.”

McCree shrugged. Ok. Guess they were going together.

The two walked in companionable silence as most townsfolk darted out of their way. Ha. The demon man and the werewolf, what a pair they made. Two incredibly dangerous men, cursed with dangerous power, were doing something as mundane as grocery shopping, fully armed.

McCree waved to a few townsfolk and guards he recognized, the ones who didn’t actively try to drive them from their town.

McCree eyed one woman, eyes wide with fear as she clutched her necklace in shaking hand. He’d had a few  _ run ins _ with her before. And by that he meant she tried to stab him with a silver fork. It stung, but it didn’t really do the job. Since then she had been leaving a lot of foul smelling herbs and flowers around his house, he supposed they were meant to drive him away.

He watched her carefully as she skirted around the edge of his vision. She had a flask in her hand. Drinking this early? She screwed off the top and whispered under her breath, McCree’s heightened senses picking up her words with ease: “ _ God give me strength. _ ”

She ran up to the pair, McCree stepping between her and Hanzo as best he could, he knew she wasn’t really that dangerous, but Hanzo tended to be kinda jumpy. She slung the liquid across the pair, McCree getting the most of it and behind him Hanzo hissed.

Worried he looked over his shoulder, but Hanzo was completely fine, just a little wet. What the hell had she thrown?

He licked some of the liquid from his cheek. Water. Just plain old water.

She watched the two expectantly, hopeful. Hanzo just looked like he was just damn barely resisting the urge to tear her apart.

“Get lost now, b‘fore there’s trouble.” McCree growled at her and she ran, horrified.

“You alright Han?”

Hanzo grunted as if in pain, “Completely fine. However my  _ oni _ is very unhappy with the insult. It wishes to do what I will not allow it.” He gritted his teeth and hissed, “ _ Kuso _ !”

Huh. Kuso. Genji said that once. He stared at Hanzo’s pained face, slightly mottled grey. Then his eyes focused on the man’s distinct eyebrows. Holy fucking shit. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

They had the same fucking eyebrows. The pieces clicked together.

Hanzo had some weird dragon power. Genji had some weird dragon power. Genji was Japanese. Hanzo was Japanese. Hanzo fit the personality description of Genji’s stick in the mud brother. And there was the bare chest… Oh shit. He  _ couldn’t _ tell Genji. Not when he was finally making progress on being more at peace with the universe or whatever. He couldn’t tell Hanzo either. Who knew what that particular ball of stoic rage would do? Holy shit. No. Maybe he was wrong. He had to be casual about it, prod Hanzo to see if he could get to the truth.

“So you remind me of this dead fella I found in the woods awhile back…” Not his most subtle but it did get straight to the point.

“Is this you trying to distract me?” He huffed as horns sprouted from his now grey head.

“More like a special kind of curiosity. Found a very torn up body of a Japanese fella ya see… I was wonderin if maybe you knew him.”

“Yes.”

“Uh, I didn’t even get to describe the guy.”

“Black hair, brown eyes, about my height. He would have been wearing green and black robes with an orange scarf. I knew him. I  _ killed _ him.” Hanzo’s features faded back to human as he sullenly recited Genji’s description the night they found him.

Well FUCK.

“Huh. Why’d ya do that?”

“Because it was my fault he became a monster.” Hanzo hissed under his breath. “It was my fault. I killed my brother. Gave his body to a monster. I had to destroy it. Destroy  _ him _ .” Now completely human again, he whispered, “I have lost my home and my brother. But I will not lose my honor.”

“Well damn.” He really didn’t know what to say. 

_ Oh hey Han quick thing your brother is actually alive and is half machine because he was saved by a nice witch who is also a doctor and also your brother may kinda blame you for his almost death but he is working on his issues with some monk but you should probably steer clear for awhile ok nice talk. _

Yeah. That was a good way to make things bad  _ fast _ . Hanzo hated witches after his bought with the Bitch of the Wilds. Most people here tended to. Probably why Mercy was so secretive and isolated.

“Market’s just ahead. Dya still wanna go?”

“I’m. Fine.”

They wandered around the market for hours, picking up fresh food and vegetables and plenty of dried meat.

“Don’t you judge! It’s good and it keeps longer.”

“That is quite a lot for merely two people.”

“I got some friends who live a bit outta town, I like to stop by every now and then and make sure they’re stocked.”

“Who would willingly be friends with you?”

“Ex-cuse me! Plenty of people! I’m more concerned about you having any friends with that sunny attitude of yours.”

“I do not need friends.”

“Hey now, everyone needs friends. A friend woulda stopped you from doing something stupid like going to take on the Witch of the Wilds and her goons single handedly.”

Hanzo gave McCree the most scathing glare. Yeesh. If looks could kill.

“My friend helped patch me up after I lost an arm to the Reaper. And in turn, I try to make sure she doesn’t invite a pack of bandits into her house for tea and crackers.”

“Your friend sounds like an idiot.”

“She’s sweet, too damn good for this world if ya ask me. Ain’t a mean bone in her body.”

“Hmmm.”

Thinking of the Reaper made his missing arm ache. One day he’d kill him for good. Him and the Witch of the Wilds.

“What was she like? The Witch of the Wilds?”

“You have not fought her?”

“Nah. I ran into the Reaper and a woman in purple. Not the Witch.”

“She was beautiful, but even her beauty could not mask her cruel gaze. She offered me the power to change events past, but I know I must live with my actions and no magic will ever change the mistakes I have made. I have paid for my sins, and am  _ cursed _ with a reminder of them.” His fist clenched in silent anger. 

“I will rain arrows upon her, so that even her dark wings cannot help her escape from me. And when she is lying beneath me,  _ bleeding _ ,  _ begging _ , looking at me with those cold eyes… It is only then I will drive an arrow through her empty heart…”

“Ok, so what I got from that is that you wanna fuck her  _ and _ kill her. Got it.”

“I would not lie with her if she was the last person on earth.”

“Well then she can’t be that pretty I guess.”

“You are a fool.”

“Fool for you.”

Hanzo glared at him some more, McCree was starting to wonder if glaring was just Hanzo and Genji’s default look. Well hey, if Genji could soften up, which he was, then maybe Hanzo could too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Mei opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, yet her mind perceived this as home. _

_ A door opened and a large man strolls in. She recognizes him as a friend, yet she could not name him. _

_ “Good morning, Winston.” Her voice felt odd, like it wasn’t her own. _

_ “Good morning! Sorry to wake you, I didn't realize you were still asleep… but uh, the mayor has called for a meeting.” _

_ “Of course. This must be about the visitors, yes?” _

_ “I suspect. I only caught a brief glance of them…” Winston shifted his spectacles, “but I get the feeling they’re a bad sort.” _

_ Mei laughed, it was weird being so carefree. “We shouldn’t judge them before knowing them, my friend. Now if you would be so kind as to give me some privacy so I may dress?” _

_ Winston’s cheeks dusted pink under his moustache as he turned away with a “Of course! Of course! My apologies!” And he hastily exited her room. _

_ Mei sighed as she rose. She pulled off her nightgown and replaced it with a simple dress. She blindly pulled back her hair into a ponytail, then exited her room where Winston waited patiently, stroking his brilliant moustache. _

_ “Ready?” _

_ Mei locked her arm with her friend’s as she smiled up at him, “Of course my friend!” _

_ They strolled through their peaceful town, waving to their friends and neighbors who greeted the two with, “Good morning Doctors!” _

_ Mei liked this dream, this memory, a lot better. It was peaceful, it was nice. It was far from the terror of the last one. _

_ They strolled into the meeting area, the church. It was the only building large enough to host the tiny village’s entire population. Mei waved to a neighbor whose child she had treated for a rather nasty infection on his arm. She was pleased to see him playing happily with his sister, his wound no longer angry and red, it was healing nicely. _

_ The mayor strolled in when it had looked like everyone was present, leading a few priests Mei recognized and a rather ominous looking man, with a silver cross around his neck. _

_ Something inside of Mei screamed danger, she recognized him from her previous dream. _

_ His eyes zeroed in on her and her dreamself blinked unaware, while Mei willed herself to notice the threat, to run and scream. _

_ Silence fell over the people as the mayor raised his hands to the crowd, urging them quiet. _

_ “Friends! Neighbors! Now is the time to rejoice. For the Lord has seen fit to send His devoted servant to protect us from Satan and his dark influence.” _

_ Winston leaned into Mei, “I already have a bad feeling about this.” His deep voice forced to a low whisper. Mei shifted nervously, a similar feeling of distrust for the church swirling in her gut. _

_ Somewhere her mind wandered to a priest telling her God had taken her memory from her as punishment for sins past. That God had done so in forgiveness so that she could live her new life free from her past corruption. They had wanted her to be a nun. She instead became a doctor. _

_ Mei was stirred from the memory inside the dream by the combined gasps and following whispers of the townspeople. _

_ “---------! I was lost in thought. What happened?” One of her words was muted to her, like she had heard it under water, like she didn’t understand its meaning. _

_ Winston leaned into her again, “That man is a leader of a group of witch hunters. He and his company seem to think that ‘magic’ is real and is a sign of Satan.” He snorted, “I, as a man of science, find the whole thing ludicrous. What these men call ‘magic’ is their own lack of understanding of science and nature.” _

_ She frowned, if Winston was right, she and he would be the prime targets for these men as both were doctors of medicine and science. _

_ The ominous man stepped forth, letting out a shrill whistle, effectively silencing everyone's fearful whispers. _

_ His voice was cold and calm, “Fear me not if you turn your back on Satan and his seduction of power, for I am here for you! To root out the evil that hides in your midst and prevent them from dragging your souls to damnation.” _

_ Winston stood up faster than Mei could stop, she flailed weakly, trying to pull him back down to his seat, but he would not be moved. _

_ The man’s cold dark eyes zeroed in on her friend and Mei shuddered in fear. “Do my words bother you?” _

_ Winston adjusted his glasses, his voice loud and concise, “Of course they do!” Mei recognized his elevated tone as the lone voice of reason in her previous dream. “I am no fool. I know that when men of God don’t understand something or it disagrees with what is written in their Bible, it frightens them and they call it ‘magic’. But let me present to you a new truth: there is no magic. Everything can be explained by science.” _

_ The dark man quirked a brow, “A scientist? In this remote hamlet?” _

_ “A doctor and a scientist!” Winston proclaimed proudly, pounding a closed fist against his solid heart. _

_ The dark man nodded, “Good. We need more of your kind around here.” _

_ Winston’s solid stance faltered a little as he openly gaped, Mei had not expected the answer either. _

_ “I, myself, am familiar with both science and medicine, and I know that some of it disproves the Old Text, but I see the Old Word as metaphor, and science is the truth in it. What I am looking for, sir scientist, is for what your science can’t explain. I am looking for people who can do the impossible, who go against the laws of nature that God has set for us. Fear me not, scientist. For I am not your foe.” _

_ Winston stared slack jawed and wide eyed. He had clearly been expecting the same rejection the village’s priests had been giving him his entire life. Mei sighed in relief as she managed to gently pull her friend back down now. When she looked up again, the man’s dark eyes were on her again. _

 

Mei opened her eyes slowly. At least it wasn’t another nightmare, but it felt so  _ real _ . She sighed as she slid off the table, it was becoming more and more likely that these dreams of hers were memories past, lost to her but trying to find their way back.

Despite that… it didn't feel like her. It was her, but it wasn't her.

She stretched and meandered to the dining area, at this point she just wanted to cave and call it a kitchen, even though it was anything but. She made a pot of tea and some toast with some raspberry jam, enough for both her and Jamie.

He had to eat. If she didn’t make him, he would forget… again.

Two plates and two cups side by side. One for her, and one for her eccentric benefactor. Taking care of him was the least she could do. And it always warmed her heart to see him smile when he thanked her.

“Jamie! Breakfast!” She called to the upper levels of the lab. She heard nothing.

She shouted again but only Snowball’s soft whirr answered her as it flitted about the windmill.

Her beloved drone appeared, making excited noises to see her.

“Good morning!” She stroked her faithful companion. “Do you know where Jamie is?”

Snowball’s face illuminated a “?” then it blinked apologetically at her.

Now his toast was going to get cold. She ate in silence, savoring the sweet, tart tanginess of the jam as it stickied her fingers. Her eyes lazily drifted above her, at the grating of the upper floors, where Jamie kept his secret work. 

He wanted to surprise her when he was done, but she really thought she could be of help to him. And she really wanted to know what was up there. What mysterious project her dear Jamie slaved over at all hours of the night, that made him cackle like a madman with a secret when light flashed from his experiments and the air grew heavy with electricity.

She eyed the stairs, curiosity now eating away at her.

“It couldn’t hurt to look.” Snowball followed her gaze and it emoted fear. Mei shook her head with a smile, “Jamie is a good man, there’s nothing to be scared of silly!”

She slowly ascended, as if in a trance, her feet feeling heavier the higher she climbed.

Her heart hammered against her chest, she could barely breathe. She was only nervous because he was so mysterious about his work… she wasn’t afraid. No! Jamie was a good man. He may come off weird, even rude at times with his inability to pay attention for long periods of time, but he was kind and thoughtful. Sometimes he was brazen, sometimes he was shy. He liked to blow things up, but he never hurt anyone - he could never hurt anyone. He would never hurt her.

She stopped at the top of the steps as all her emotions seemed to peak. She stared at the dredgy white curtain separating her from his secrets. She felt so heavy and cold.

Sweating, she reached forward, she had to know. But a little voice inside her screamed:  _ How could you betray his trust like that?! _

She stopped, fingers ghosting the curtain’s edge. Was she betraying him?

And with that last thought the dam broke. Blood roared in her ears as her heart raced out of control. She felt dizzy and she became aware of her leadened limbs.

She swayed. She barely heard panicked shrill tones through the roar in her ears. Her faithful drone tried to bump her upright as she wobbled weakly on unstable legs she couldn’t move.

She was going to fall. Her knees failed her first as she choked on her own breaths, then the rest of her fell, her face making hard contact with the metal grating of the floor.

She shivered uncontrollably, as if chilled, but she also felt heated, but she was too weak to remove any layers.

Her hammering heart and the roar in her ears were the only sounds she could process.

Snowball zipped around in and out of her spotty vision, but Mei couldn’t really register what was happening. It felt like she was stuck falling for eternity, trapped in her body while not being there. It was strange. It was horrible.

Hands were on her now, she was pulled into a sitting position.

She noticed his eyes first, wide with panic, but still blazing brightly.

Through the chaos of the raging storm of her mind, she felt calm looking into his golden eyes.

His mouth was moving wordlessly as he held a hand to her cheek. It felt muffled, like he was touching her through cloth.

He looked so scared. She didn’t want him to be afraid.

Through the deafening roar in her ears, she could hear his voice, leading her back.

“C’mon! C’mon! Mei ya gotta come back darl. Please! Mei!” The pain in his voice as he begged her gave her the resolve to force her erratic breathing to slow.

“Mei? Mei! Yer alright now, that’s it just breathe.” His voice became more clear as the rest of her body slowly came back under her control.

She struggled a deep breath, “I’m- I’m alright Jamie.”

“Fuck Mei, ya scared the bejesus outta me!”

Mei had no idea what a bejesus was.

She tried sitting up further on her own. Her limbs were stiff and sore, and she could feel indents on her skin from laying on the grating.

He hushed her softly, stroking her hair with a hand of flesh as he held her secure, pulling her closer to him, with a hand of metal.

“I’m okay now…” Now that he was here. She pushed her face further into his study chest. He was here, she was going to be ok.

He loosened his grip on her, and she looked up on him in confusion. His eyes were locked in front of him, she followed his gaze to the curtain, the ugly piece of cloth that hid his work.

“Ya got scared and had an attack din ya?” He looked so hurt and betrayed.

“I- I didn’t go in. I wanted to- but… I- I just couldn't.” Tears streamed down her face.

A weak smile graced his lips. It didn't fit him. This pseudo-smile he made with pained pity, hurt her more than anything else could.

“Ya scared to see what the mad scientist got behind the curtain ay?”

“No!” Her answer immediate and firm as she sputtered out the rest, “I was afraid I would hurt you! I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t.” She hiccupped pathetically. He lifted her chin up, but she couldn’t look at him.

“I was afraid of you being hurt or angry and-”

His lips crashed against hers, desperate, hungry. She met him with the same franticness, the same need to be closer as her eyes fluttered shut. She grasped his shirt and he pulled her on his lap, flush against his chest. He explored her mouth with his own, her body was putty in his hands. He seemed to get bolder, biting her bottom lip and she gasped at the contact, and he took the opportunity to worm his tongue into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy and she let out a deep moan.

He pulled away from her and she was left gasping for breath and wanting for more.

Jamie had a pleased smirk and a raised eyebrow, “I’ve been dreamin’ of you making that noise.” She flushed at his admission as she wiggled out of his lap.

He jumped up, impossibly nimble with his prosthetic limbs. He extended a hand to her, still on the floor with the same starstruck look on her face.

Somewhere in her mind, alarms were going off, but she was far away from that. She felt at peace as she let Jamie pull her up, he was standing tall and confident, like he hadn’t been so vulnerable but moments before.

He pulled her up and back into his arms, he tilted her chin up so he could stare down into her eyes. She unconsciously licked her lips as she stared into his full blown pupils, rimmed with gold.

He met her for another kiss, this one less desperate, but no less passionate. It was a good thing he was holding her, otherwise she would have fallen again. He was gentler this kiss, taking his time to explore her mouth, and she loved every second of it.

This time he broke away slowly and she let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck.” Simple, eloquent, and such a completely  _ him _ response.

She nodded breathlessly, letting her head rest on his chest, still caught in his steady embrace.

“Do you still wanna know?”

Mei blinked, satisfied, somewhat sleepy, “Know what?”

“Whaddya mean ‘know what’? I'm asking if ya still wanna see what I’m working on!”

Her euphoria faded as she blinked back up to him, unsure.

She didn’t need to see what was behind the curtain. Not anymore. It didn't matter to her now that she had him.

But when she pulled away to answer him, she saw him practically vibrating in excitement, eyes begging her.

“Only if you show me.”

His smile was brighter than any of the explosives he routinely set off, brighter than any sparking electricity in the dead of the night.

His hand found its place on her lower back, slowly guiding her forward as he pulled back the curtain.

It was amazing. It was horrifying.

Mei gasped at the sight if the being before her, grotesque and unmoving.

“Is he dead?” Her voice quivered.

“Fer now.” He sounded smug considering his work appeared to be related to the body of some kind of monstrous green man.

“For now?” She parroted still looking at the pig faced behemoth before her.

“Where did you find him?”

“I made him.”

Mei tore her gaze from the body to blink at Jamie, wide-eyed and lost.

He looked sheepish, nervous as if his confession would drive her away.

“Jamie… this is amazing, but I don’t - I don’t understand… Is this what you’ve been working on? Why? What is it that you are trying to do?”

His temporary timidness vanished as he rushed beside his behemoth, his back facing her as his shoulders slumped. Leaving Mei to gawk at man and beast.

“I created him… and I’m going to bring him  _ to life _ .”

Her body moved on its own. She collided with Jamie’s back, wrapping her arms around him.

He helped at her embrace and twisted around in her arms, looking unsure if her reaction. Even with all his bravado, he was afraid she would reject him.

He looked at her nervously, his arms hovering over her body. It was like he was waiting for her to shatter him now when he expected it least, when he was most vulnerable. She smiled up to him as she brought her hand up to his cheek, gently guiding him mouth to hers.

When they separated again, he rested his head on hers, whispering softly from above her, “I love you.”

Mei was not surprised to hear herself answer, “I love you too.” And she meant it.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Ya know… I gots a surprise fer ya…”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I got you an actual bed.”

“Oh…” she angled her face to whisper in his ear, “Want to try it out?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did any of yall figure IT out?
> 
> Also I've got 11 chapters planned right now. Chapter 5 is going to be fluffy stuff and friendships growing, so don't expect my drama there.  
> Chapter 6 is going to have some pretty big bombs dropped, one of which y'all already know, the other I don't think y'all suspect. And is also going to have something rather major happen.  
> And I think I should leave the rest of the chapters secret til the bombs in chapter 6 have gone off.


	5. AUTHOR UPDATE

Ok so I WAS planning on updating twice this month, but I don't think that's going to happen.

A really close family friend of mine was in a car accident... His parents were like my second family, his older sister was one of my best friends and he was like a little brother to me. Nicky got me into first person shooter games when we were kids. Before that I thought I wasn't allowed to play them because I was a girl (I was pretty young and kids tend to be little shits, but not Nicky).  
Anyway... Nicky didn't make it (edit: my Dad told me he was dead bc they thought he was brain dead and that his body was shutting down)and things suck right now. Sorry.

UPDATE 2: HOLY SHIT GUYS MY FRIEND MIGHT NOT BE BRAIN DEAD. In my previous update, I just mentioned that Nicky didnt make it (well I mean his heart stopped, but he was revived), as a result of the accident he is in a coma and was thought to be brain dead. They did a procedure last night to try to get blood flowing back to his brain and now there is activity on the right side of his brain! He was breathing 60% on his own as well. I am starting to believe in miracles!!! I'm going to visit him and his family in hospital tomorrow (he had his accident in another town on his way back from a school retreat).

AND PLEASE EVERYONE, SEATBELTS SAVE LIVES.

Update 3: Nicky's surgery went well today. They took off the top half of his skull to relieve more pressure and it had the desired effects. So far the doctors here have been incompetent, but Nicky's family and friends know some of the best doctors in Texas, including the head of Neurosurgery at MD Anderson, so they got some very powerful second opinions that have forced these Doctors to take action (their previous inaction and delays of doing certain procedures... They most certainly have made things harder for him).  
Now it looks like Nicky has a fighting chance. We are all trying to stay strong for him, but it is hard in these trying times.  
In other news, I successfully gave blood, WITHOUT PASSING OUT (I am a weenie). Apparently I was just gushing blood cause it only took 5 minutes. Meanwhile I was like how the fuck did you get that much mass out of my body?  
I'm trying to support Nicky and his family in any way I can.  
Thank y'all for your support and understanding.

UPDATE 4: So things still ain't looking too hot for my friend. I mean, technically his body is still alive, but we arent sure about his brain anymore... 2 different hospitals have diagnosed him as brain dead... Despite this, I still go to visit him when I can and show love and support to his family.  
Anyway... I don't wanna leave y'all with nothing so I'm going to post the working title names for the remaining chapters(note: these may change by the time I write the chapter):

Ch 5 - Calm before the Storm  
Ch 6 - Witch of Life  
Ch 7 - Insanity and Obsession  
Ch 8 - The Battle of Aldersbrunn  
Ch 9 - Aftershock  
Ch 10 - Death Comes For Us All  
Ch 11 - End of the Line

Chapter 5 is like 1/3~1/2 written. Still gotta get a bunch of shit written and get our characters more entwined with each other so that its all the more heartbreaking when I kill them all. (Don't worry I'm not going to kill all of them)  
Also know that Chapter 6 is where I'm going to be dropping a lot of plot bombs. Can't wait to start doing that. I'm interested in seeing what y'all's reactions to said bombs are.  
Chapter 10 I'm so bloody excited to write. And by excited I mean I'm probably going to be sobbing so much that I'm going to vomit.

UPDATE WHATEVER: so this is probably gonna be my last update before I take this author note down and post chapter 5, which is almost done.  
So my friend... He's going to be taken off of life support this Sunday. I get to go one more time to say goodbye and try to support his family. This should NEVER have happened, especially to someone like Nicky.  
I thought I wouldnt write in my grief, but funny enough Ive done a whole lot of writing these past few days. Who knew? On one hand I want to cry nonstop. On the other hand no tears seem to come. So in short everything sucks, but while ive been having issues sleeping and shit ive been writing. When ive typed up the chapter I'm just gonna post it unbeta'd so there will be some mistakes, but fuck that's fucking life.


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